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She perches on an arm of a chair. 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

BY 
MARGARET CAMERON 




Frontispiece by Harrison Fisher 



McCLURE, PHILLIPS ^ CO- 
NEW YORK 
MCMIII 



THE LIBRARY OF 
CONbKESS. 

Two Copies Received 

SEP 25 1903 

Copyright Entry 
(X, XXa No 

'copy b. 






CU: 



Copyright, 1903, by 
McCLURE, PHILLIPS & CO. 



Published, October, 1903 N 



I 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 



! 






To My Mother 



PUBLISHERS' NOTE 

In presenting these plays and monologues to the 
public, the publishers have i/n mind not only their 
interest as literature for the general reader, but 
their special value for those i/nterested in amateur 
dramaticals as well. All of the pieces here primted 
were written expressly to be acted, and have been 
performed with great success by amateur actors i/n 
various parts of the country; two of them have 
even had the distinction and guarantee of a per- 
formance by the students of Mr. Franklin H. Sar- 
gent's school, the American Academy of Dramatic 
Arts. Of Mrs. Cameron's work Mr. Sargent has 
expressed himself as follows: 

''Theatrically and dramatically I can say that 
I believe her plays are most unusual and valuable. 
In the midst of the great dearth and second-rate 
results, which are so common in the playwriting 
field, the plays of Mrs. Cameron seem, to myself 
and my associates of the Academy, to be excep- 
tionally brilliant, dramatically effective, and the- 
atrically valuable. I have never read a modern 
[vii] 



PUBLISHERS' NOTE 

writer who had such a fine and complete insight of 
femimme characterisation and whose delineation of 
female character was more accurate and interest- 
i/ng. The dialogue alone is so full of humian spirit 
and brilliancy of thought and feelvng that I am 
sure the enthusiastic readers of her plays when pub- 
lished will be many. Mrs. Cameron is doing better 
work to-day and shows more promise than any 
other woman playwright within my immediate 
knowledge.^^ 

There are few enough plays at the present day 
suitable for representation on the amateur stage, 
it would seem, to make such a collection as this of 
Mrs. Cameron's of considerable importance to 
those who, having exhausted the few old favour- 
ites, are at a loss for fresh material. 



^ 



[ viii ] 



/ 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Miss Doulton's Orchids . 1 

The Burglar 77 

The Kleptomaniac 119 

A Pipe of Peace 193 

y A Christmas Chime ........ 237 

The Committee on Matrimony 283 

Her Neighbour's Creed 315 

Unexpected Guests 335 

The p. a. I. L. W. R 345 

In a Street-car 355 

A Patron of Art . ^ 367 



. n 



MISS DOULTON'S ORCHIDS 



MISS DOULTON'S ORCHIDS 

A Comedy in Two Parts 

CHARACTERS 

Cecily Belknap. 

Bess Maynard. 

Polly Winslow. 

Owen Belknap. 

Gordon McAllister. 

Kenneth Moore, Belknap's cousin. 



PART I 

Morning 

The leaded casements in the living-room of the 
Belknaps* suburban house stand open to admit the 
warm morning air, giving glimpses of trees and a 
garden beyond. A door on the right, leading to a 
veranda, is also open. Other doors at the bach and 
on the left lead respectively to the hall and the 
library. The room is charmingly furnished, flow- 
ers, boohs, magazines, and a multitude of cushions 
giving evidence of constant and familiar occupancy. 

Cecily Belknap, a smiling, vivacious, gracious 
young matron of twenty-five^ is discovered in confi- 
dential chat with Bess Maynard, a spinster of 
thirty, whose mildly cynical point of view is indicated 
by a slightly satirical smile and contradicted by the 
quich sympathy of her glance. Both wear cotton 
morning gowns. 

CECILY (continuing conversation). 

And Polly declares she's goin^,* home next week. 

I hope she hasn't quarrelled with Ken, but I can't 

[3] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

think of anything else that should send her off in 
this sudden fashion. 

BESS. 

I thought she was going to stay another month. 

CECILY. 

So did I, until this morning. I'm sure that was her 
intention when she came, and I can't think of any- 
thing that can have happened except, as I say, she 
may have quarrelled with Ken. 

BESS {glancing out the window). 

Well, if she has there are symptoms of a reconcilia- 
tion, for she has just appeared in the garden and 
he is racing down the walk to overtake her. 

CECILY {springing up to look out). 

Really ? Oh, good ! I do wish those two would 
make a match ! 

BESS. 

I wonder what there is in the early stages of matri- 
mony that infects all women with the match-making 
microbe ? Nobody seems to escape. 

CECILY. 

It's because we want to see all our friends as happy 
[4] 



MISS DOULTON'S ORCHIDS 

as we are. Bess {wistfully)^ aren't you ever going 
to marry ? 

BESS {cheerfully). 

Well, not until I'm asked, anyway. 

CECILY. 

Oh, nonsense ! You've refused nearly every man 
you know ! I asked Gordon McAllister why he 
hadn't proposed to you 

BESS. 

Cecily! 

CECILY (lightly). 

Oh, you know Gordon proposes to everybody ! He 
said that no man voluntarily bored a woman with 
repetitions, and that it was understood that all 
known forms of proposal had been exhausted upon 
you without effect. 

BESS {with dignity). 
Really, Cecily, you must not 

CECILY {airily). 

Now, don't mount your prancing steed in that 
fashion ! At home it was perfectly understood that 
Gordon should propose to all the girls every sum- 
mer. It was part of the programme for the season 
[5] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

— and, I must say, he does it well! We used to 
wonder, sometimes, what he'd do if one of us should 
accept him. I threatened to do it once, just for 
fun, but Owen came that summer, and I forgot it. 

BESS (drily). 

Then Mr. McAllister is a sort of sentimental reser- 
voir, is he? Always on tap? 

CECILY. 

Exactly ! Come to think of it, Bess, I believe you're 
the only unmarried woman he has ever known to 
whom he hasn't proposed. I wonder if it means 
anything.? 

BESS (with a short laugh), 
Cecily, you are incorrigible ! Oh, here comes Polly. 

Enter from the veranda Policy Winslow, an 
impulsive J tender-eyed, radiant girl of twenty- 
two, carrying a handful of letters. She is fol- 
lowed almost immediately by Owen Belknap, 
a tall, vigorous, well-knit man of thirty, whose 
happy habit takes him at once to his wife^s 
side; and Gordon McAllister, a bachelor of 
thirty-eight, shrewd, genial, kindly; a squire 
of dames whom many seasons of social flattery 
[6] 



MISS DOULTON'S ORCHIDS 

have not sufficed to spoil, and whose popularity 
is even greater among men than among women. 
The men carry the morning papers, 

POLLY. 

The boy has just brought the mail. Here are two 
for you, Cecily, and three for me, and one for — 
Mr. Moore. 

CECILY (at window, calling). 
Ken ! Oh, Ken ! Here's a letter for you. 

POLLY. 

Mine are from home. One from mamma and one 
from (Kenneth Moore, an impulsive, good- 
natured, quick, boyish fellow of twenty-four, ap- 
pears in the doorwuy leading to the veranda.) 

KENNETH. 

A letter for me.? Who from.? 

CECILY. 

How should we know? (Kenneth takes the letter 
and opens it, with a murmured apology, Cecily 
sighs as she reads her mail.) Oh, me! Another 
Hearts party ! That makes three next week ! 

[7] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

BESS. 

That's because you're so deplorably good-natured, 
Cecily. Nobody invites me to Hearts parties. 

GORDON. 

Since your life is a perpetual game of Hearts, Miss 
Maynard, they probably hesitate to match their in- 
experience against your skill. 

KENNETH. 
I say! This letter's from Fred Grover. He 
says 

POLLY (looking up from her letters). 

Fred Grover? Isn't he the man who's in love with 
Marie Doulton.^* 

BESS 

{mischievously/ glancing at Owen and Kenneth, 

who frown uneasily). 

The man? Has anybody arrived at the distinction 
of being the man? Did ever any man know Marie 
Doulton without falling in love with her? 

OWEN 

(aside to Bess, as he makes opportunity to pass 

near her). 

Oh, what's the use of raking up old skeletons? 
[8] 



MISS DOULTON'S ORCHIDS 

CECILY. 

Why, you knew her, didn't you, Owen, before she 
went on the stage? 

OWEN. 
Yes. Yes, of course; I knew her. (Bess conceals 

a smile.) 

CECILY. 

There, Bess ! There's one man. 

BESS. 

Oh, well — she wasn't an actress then. That makes 
all the difference in the world, you know. (Owen 
and Kenneth throm her relieved glances. ) 

KENNETH 

(aside to Bess, leaning over her chair as he goes 

to join Polly). 

You're a good fellow, Bess, if you are a tease! 

POLLY (half absorbed in her mail). 
They say Fred Grover has completely lost his heart. 

KENNETH. 

And his head as well, if I'm any judge. He says 
she's coming here 

BESS. 

Why, is she.? I didn't know that. 
[9] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

KENNETH. 

Yes, she opens in town to-night, and Fred says- 



POLLY. 

Is she as beautiful as people say? I've never seen 
her. 

BESS. 
She's the most beautiful woman I ever saw — and 
the most fascinating. 

GORDON. 

You know her? You're fond of her? 

BESS. 
I went to school with her. 

GORDON (with enthusiasm). 
Let's all go to see her ! 

OWEN (laughing), 
"The ruling passion" ! It's no use, Gordon ! She's 
adamant. Wealth, position, titles, love, separately 
and in combination, have all failed to tempt her 
from the stage. 

GORDON. 
I suppose one may look at her? Can she act? 
[10] 



MISS DOULTON'S ORCHIDS 
KENNETH. 

Can she act! Good heavens, man, where have you 
lived? She had New York literally at her feet last 
season. 

GORDON. 

That's no criterion. New York is essentially mas- 
culine, and its judgment of a woman is not to be 
trusted — especially if she be good to look at. I ask 
you, can she act? 

OWEN. 

She can! All together, now! {Waves his arms,) 

OWEN, KENNETH, CECILY, BESS 

(m unison, laughing). 
She can! 

OWEN. 

Now, are you satisfied .^^ 

GORDON. 

Entirely. When shall we go to see her.? I'll get a 
box. 

CECILY. 
To-morrow night ? 

GORDON. 

To-morrow night. I'll 'phone for seats at once. 

[11] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 
CECILY. 

Don't get a stage-box, Gordon. One never sees any- 
thing but the audience, and the prompter in the 
flies. 

GORDON. 

You come and conduct the negotiations, then. 

CECILY. 

Very well. Come on, girls, we'll all go and super- 
intend Gordon's order. 

(Bess, Cecily, Polly, and Gordon troop out to 
the hall, laughing and chatting as they go.) 

KENNETH. 

Say, Owen, haven't you ever told Cecily about your 
affair with Marie.? 

OWEN. 

Well — er — no. You see, it wouldn't do any partic- 
ular good, and it might worry her, so 

KENNETH (thoughtfully), 

H'm. Yes, I suppose so. Well (laughing) Fred 
seems to be going the usual pace. He wants me 

to 

[12] 



MISS DOULTON'S ORCHIDS 

Enter Cecily from the hall with a telegram, which 
she hands to Owen. 



CECILY. 

Here's a message for you, Owen, marked "rush." 

OWEN. 

Wonder what's up now? (He reads the telegram.) 
Oh, it's from that fellow up at Centerville. He's 
in hot water again. You'll have to go up imme- 
diately. Ken. (Cecily goes out,) 

KENNETH. 

Confound him ! He's more trouble than he's worth. 
I wish you'd take that business away from him, 
Owen. 

OWEN (looking at his watch). 

If you hurry you'll get the nine-thirty. 

KENNETH. 

All right. I wanted to take Polly to the links to- 
day, too! 

OWEN. 

Well, run along! You've only twelve minutes to 
catch that train. 

[13] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 
KENNETH. 

All right. {He stops in the doorway.) Oh, by 
Jove, I forgot! Owen, you'll be in town to-day, 
won't you? Run into Bauer's and order the finest 
bunch of roses you can find — five dozen of the most 
expensive — and send them, with this card — {feels 
in his pockets) what the deuce did I do with the 
thing? Oh, here it is! 

OWEN. 
To Polly? 

KENNETH. 

No ; to Marie Doulton. There's the address {scrib- 
bling on the envelope in which the card is enclosed). 
Don't forget, on your life, or you'll get me into no 
end of a scrape! {Tosses envelope to Owen and 
hurries to the door.) 

OWEN. 

But I say. Ken ! Hold on ! You don't mean 

KENNETH {watch in hand). 

Yes, I do ! Never mind the price. Get them, sure ! 
Good-bye. {Runs off .) 

OWEN {in doorway). 
But, Ken, hold on I 

[14] 



MISS DOULTON'S ORCHIDS 
KENNETH (outside). 

That's all right. I'll miss that train ! ( Owen turns 
the envelope over in his hands, shaking his head 
dubiously. ) 

Enter Cecily, Polly, and Bess from the library, 

CECILY. 

Gordon's waiting for you to go to the links, Owen. 

OWEN {shortly). 
Can't. I'm going to town. 

CECILY. 

To town? I thought you and Ken were going to 
stay over all day to-day. 

OWEN. 

We were, but Ken's been called to Centerville, and 
I've got to go to town to attend to — some business. 
{He looks distastefully at the envelope in his 
hand. ) 

CECILY. 
Well, go and tell Gordon, then. He's waiting. 
(Owen goes out.) 

(Cecily, Polly and Bess dispose themselves 

comfortably in easy-chairs. ) 

[15] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

CECILY {to Polly). 
Well, why you insist, all at once, upon going home, 
I don't see ! 

BESS. 
Nor I. Isn't your bed good? 

CECILY. 

Isn't the weather perfect? 

BESS. 

Aren't we agreeable? 

CECILY. 

And the men attentive? Ken's your shadow, and 
I'm sure, Owen fairly dotes upon you ! 

POLLY. 

You don't seem to object. 

CECILY. 

Well, mercifully, I'm not jealous — of my friends. 

POLLY (curiously). 
Are you jealous of anybody? 

CECILY. 

No. That is — ^why, no, of course not! Jealousy 
[16] 



MISS DOULTON'S ORCHIDS 

and vulgarity are synonymous terms. I trust 
neither applies to me. 

POLLY. 

I'm so glad you feel that way, dear ! It's so — com- 
mon — to be jealous! Besides, I can't imagine a 
girl marrying a man unless she could trust him ab- 
solutely, in the face of everything, can you ? 

BESS {in laughing accusation), 
Polly, you're in love ! 

POLLY {much confused). 
Why, Bess, what nonsense ! 

CECILY {complacently). 

Well, of course, I never cared for anybody but 

Owen 

BESS {groaning), 

"The only man I ever loved 1" 

CECILY {indignantly). 

Well, he is ! And nothing could ever make me the 
least little speck jealous of Owen. He honestly be- 
lieves that I'm the only perfect woman in the world. 
You know, girls, it sometimes frightens me to think 
[17] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

what might happen if he should discover, some day, 
that I'm only an ordinary sort of woman, after all. 

POLLY {gravely nodding), 
I know. One wonders how long one can live up 
to it. 

BESS (mischie'vouslt/) . 
You know, / wonder if it isn't better not to marry 
at all, than to live in constant dread of falling off 
one's pedestal. 

CECILY. 
Oh, my, no ! 

POLLY. 
Oh, no, Bess ! 

CECILY. 
It deprives one of so much, not to marry. 

POLLY (impulsively). 
Girls (She stops as suddenly as she began.) 

CECILY. 

Well.? 

POLLY. 

Oh, nothing. 

BESS. 
Go on, Polly. It ruins the nerves to be excited that 
way, and then held in suspense. 
[18] 



MISS DOULTON'S ORCHIDS 

POLLY. 

No, I — it's nothing. I thought I'd say something 
— but I changed my mind. 

CECILY. 

I hope you were going to say that you've decided 
not to go home. Polly, why don't you stay? 

POLLY. 

Oh, I can't ! There's so much to do ! 

BESS. 

To do ! What on earth have you to do ? If ever 
there was a lily of the field, it's Polly Winslow ! 

POLLY. 

Oh, there's sewing, you know, and 



CECILY. 

Sewing ! You? 

BESS. 
My prophetic soul ! I knew it ! 

POLLY (half defiantly). 
What.? 

BESS. 
It's a trousseau! You've been going and getting 
engaged ! 

[19] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

CECILY. 
Polly ! Have you ? 

POLLY. 

Y-y-yes, but (Cecily embraces her raptur- 
ously; Bess more calmly.) 

CECILY, 

When, Polly? When? 

POLLY. 

Last night — in the garden. But how did you 
know, Bess? 

BESS {mysteriously). 

I have missed my vocation. I should have been a 
detective — or a clairvoyant. The past explained 
and the future revealed from a single hair of your 
head! 

POLLY. 
Yes, but Bess — — ! 

BESS. 

There are no secrets I cannot penetrate, no myste- 
ries I cannot solve ! In addition to keen perceptive 
faculties and unfailing deductive ability, I am the 
possessor of occult powers of a high order ! 
[20] 



MISS DOULTON'S ORCHIDS 
POLLY. 

No, but really, how did you know? We thought 
we had been so careful ! 

BESS {suddenly matter-of-fact). 

When a young person of your tastes, disposition, 
and general friskiness begins suddenly to talk 
down to her elders on the subjects of connubial con- 
fidence, the ideals of marriage, a life of unselfish 
surrender and kindred topics, it is safe to assume, 
without further evidence, that she is bending her 
neck to the yoke. And when, in addition to that, 
a crabbed and middle-aged spinster happens to be 
sitting quietly in the dark end of the veranda when 
the contracting parties are approaching the criti- 
cal moment, and sees 

POLLY {breathlessly), 
Bess, you weren't ! You didn't ! 

BESS. 

Well, at any rate, I didn't talk about it. I couldn't 
escape, but I shut my eyes and put my fingers in 
my ears. 

POLLY. 

Did you, Bess "^ Did you, really ^ 
[21] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

BESS. 

Indeed, I did ! I should hate to feel myself an ac- 
cessory before the fact ! So I stopped my ears, shut 
my eyes, and held my tongue. 

POLLY (embracing her). 

Oh, you dear! (A^ an afterthought.) Oh, Bess! 
You were alone, weren't you.^^ Mr. McAllister 
wasn't with you.f^ 

BESS (turning away). 

Wasn't I silent.? You didn't hear any conversa- 
tion, did you.? 

POLLY. 

Oh, of course, if he'd been there, you'd have been 
talking ! Besides, you're not the sort of girl to sit 
in dark corners with men, anyway. 

CECILY (laughing). 

No, for when she does, they always propose to her. 
She's grown wary. 

BESS (annoyed). 
Don't be silly, Cecily ! 

Enter Owen. 

[22] 



MISS DOULTON'S ORCHIDS 

CECILY. 

Oh, Owen, what do you think? Polly and Ken are 
engaged ! 

OWEN. 
What? Good! By Jove, that's — (Looks sud- 
denly/ blank.) By Jove I 

CECILY, BESS, POLLY. 

What's the matter? 

OWEN (troubled). 
Oh — er — nothing. I just happened to remember 
something. (Furtively takes card envelope from 
his pocket and glances at it.) 

CECILY. 

Well? 

OWEN. 
Oh, never mind now. 

CECILY (impatiently). 
Well, why don't you say you're glad? 

OWEN. 

Eh? 

CECILY (laughing). 
About Polly and Ken, stupid ! 
[23] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

OWEN. 

Oh, yes, of course, I — I'm delighted, you know. 

POLLY (pouting). 
Well, you don't look it! 

OWEN (making an effort to smile). 
Oh, yes, I do. I — -I don't feel just right this morn- 
ing. I want to see you a moment, Cecily. 

CECILY. 

Are you ill, dear? 

OWEN. 
Oh, no, I'm all right, but — When did this hap- 
pen, Polly? 

POLLY (wonderingly). 
Last night. 

OWEN. 
Last night! Oh, yes; I just wondered. Ready, 
Cecily ? ( Owen and Cecily go out. ) 

POLLY. 

Well, what has happened to him? Last week he 
told me that if I refused Ken, he'd never forgive 
me — and now look at him ! 

BESS (lightly). 

My dear, apparently you have yet to learn that the 

[24] 



MISS DOULTON'S ORCHIDS 

surest way to earn a man's disapproval is to give 
him what he wants. 

POLLY (laughing). 
You miserable old cynic! Here comes Mr. McAl- 
lister, /'m going to write letters. 

BESS {hurriedly). 
Oh, no, Polly, don't ! Stay here with me ! 

POLLY. 

Not I ! I believe that man's in love with you, and 
I'm no fifth wheel! {She runs into library, laugh- 
ing.) 

Enter Gordon from veranda. 

GORDON {looking after Polly). 
Have our young friends confessed? Or are they 
still lingering over the taste of stolen waters? 

BESS {prosaically). 
They've announced their engagement, if that's 
what you mean. 

GORDON {sighing with exaggerated relief). 
A-ah ! I'm glad to hear it ! I felt like an accom- 
plice. 

[26] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 
BESS. 

They have no idea that you were there, and, of 
course {anxiously), you'll not mention it? 

GORDON. 

I'm obedient — but it is a temptation! {Coax- 
ingly.) Just a suggestion, you know. 

BESS {indignantly). 

You didn't listen! 

GORDON. 

After you had commanded me to stop my ears.^ 
Certainly not ! 

BESS {cynically). 

If one were uncharitable, one might infer that it's 
just as well that I was there to insist upon the 
observance of the — decencies. 

GORDON {reflectively). 

Well, it's always interesting to know how another 
man does that sort of thing, you know. 

BESS. 

Yes, if one prides one's self upon the variety of 
methods at one's disposal. 

[26] 



MISS DOULTON'S ORCHIDS 
GORDON (whimsically). 

1 have often reflected upon the mistake in the order 
of things. Now, why should a woman, who never 
needs to take the initiative in matters of that sort, 
have the sole opportunity of hearing and judging 
of a variety of proposals of marriage? She gains 
a lot of knowledge and experience that she can 
never use, while a man, awkward at best, never 
hears any proposals but those he makes himself. 
He, therefore, is forced to depend upon his own 
inadequate tact and limited understanding of the 
possibilities of the subject, at a moment when he 
needs all the wisdom of the sages, the perception 
of the seers, and the charm of the sirens to aid 
him! 

BESS. 

Which explains in part, I suppose, the fact that 
some men are widely known as having proposed 
to every woman who would listen to them.'' 

GORDON. 

Miss Maynard, would you — I mean, do you — that 
is, is a woman going to be hard on a fellow just 
because he's amused a few girls and done his best 
to live up to their expectations ? 
[37] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

BESS. 

Mr. McAllister! 

GORDON. 
Yes, I know, but — now, I'm in dead earnest ! You 
know there are girls who — well, who like to amuse 
themselves and be amused. You're not one of them 
— you never were one of them (Bess conceals a 
smile), but — is it going against a man that he's 
done his best to furnish amusement for them.f* 

BESS (with mock gravity). 
Is the subject one that impresses you as suitable 
material for — amusement.? 

GORDON. 

No — no, of course, not to a woman of your sort! 
But you see. Miss Maynard, there are so blessed 
few women like you ! I never knew another ! I — 
I wish 3^ou'd answer me? Would you be hard on 
a fellow under those circumstances? 

BESS. 

I hope I should never be hard, as you call it, on 
any one, Mr. McAllister, but I should hesitate a 
long time before I considered seriously anything 
that might be said to me by a man who had formed 
the proposal habit. There's Polly on the veranda. 
[28] 



MISS DOULTON'S ORCHIDS 

Shall we join her? (She goes quickly off. Gor- 
don looJcs after her, groans, despondently shakes 
his heady and follows slowly,) 

Cecily and Owen enter from the library, both 
looking troubled. She carries the card envel- 
ope. 

CECILY. 

And he made no explanation at all? 

OWEN. 

None whatever. It doesn't seem to me there's much 
to be said, is there ? The fact remains that he made 
a blooming young idiot of himself over Marie 
Doulton for two solid years, and beggared himself 
sending her flowers and fruit and candy — ^the only 
reason it wasn't diamonds and rubies was that she 
wouldn't accept them — and now that she's come 
back, within twenty-four hours of her arrival he 
begins it again, although he's just become engaged 
to one of the most charming girls on earth. There 
isn't much to be said in explanation of that, is 
there ? 

CECILY {miserably). 

No, I suppose not. But, oh, poor Polly ! Poor lit- 
tle Polly ! You'll send them, Owen ? 
[29] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

OWEN (grimly). 
Oh, yes, I'll send them! 

CECILY. 

I wonder — Did he write on the card ? 

OWEN. 
I don't know. 

CECILY. 

I suppose it wouldn't do to look.? 

OWEN. 

Cecily! 

CECILY (hurriedly). 
Oh, no, I wouldn't do it, dear! Only (tearfully) 
I'm thinking about Polly ! Poor, poor little Polly ! 
And she's going home to make her trousseau! 

OWEN. 

Well, don't say anything about this to any one, for 
the present, Cecily. We'll give Ken a chance to 
say whatever he has to say before we mention it. 
Young rascal! I'd like to thump him! (Looks at 
his watch.) Good-bye. 

CECILY (going to the hall with him). 
Good-bye, dear. (She disappears in the hall for a 
moment, and re-enters at once.) 
[30] 



MISS DOULTON'S ORCHIDS 

Gordon enters from the veranda^ 

GORDON {dejectedly). 
Hello, Cecily. Say, Cecily, you've always been a 
good friend of mine. Why didn't you tell me years 
ago that I was making a donkey of myself, and 
shut me off.? 

CECILY {puzzled). 
Eh.? 

GORDON. 
Why did you let me go on making love to every 
pretty little idiot I met.? Didn't I deserve better 
at your hands than that.? What did I ever do 
to you.? 

CECILY {demurely). 
Well, you proposed to me three times. 

GORDON. 

I know; just so you'd know when not to believe 
a fellow. You knew I didn't mean it, and I knew 
you knew it; and maybe I saved you a heartache 
some time. Maybe you'd have believed some other 
fool if I hadn't trained you, instead of keeping 
your heart all sweet and sound for Owen. 

CECILY. 

Well, then, maybe that's the reason I didn't "shut 
[31] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

you off," as you say. Perhaps you've been a pub- 
lic benefactor all these years, Gordon. 

GORDON. 

Hang the public ! What do I care about the pub- 
lic? When I finally meet a woman whom — whom 
I do — well, whom I do love! There! — and want 
to marry her, she's heard all these stories of my 
idiotic past, and imagines my heart's a worm-eaten 
old nut, not even worth the cracking! 

CECILY. 

Merciful powers ! Is it Bess ? 

GORDON (savagely). 
Is it Bess? Of course it's Bess! (Cecily laughs.) 
Who else could it be? And I don't see anything 
to laugh at, either! I tell you, Cecily, I'm in 
dead earnest about this! 

CECILY (laughing). 
Oh, Gordon, to think of it ! After all these years ! 

GORDON. 

I suppose you thought I was going on making a 
buffoon of myself for ever, did you? I suppose 
you thought I hadn't any heart, did you? I sup- 
pose you thought-^oh, thunder! What do I care 
[32] 



MISS DOULTON'S ORCHIDS 

what you thought! I want to know what I'm 
going to do ! 

CECILY (wiping tears of laughter from her eyes). 
Have you proposed to her? 

GORDON (sulkily). 
No. 

CECILY (wonderingly). 
Well, why don't you? 

GORDON. 

Don't know how. Don't know what to say. 
( Cecily shrieks with laughter. ) Well, I don't ! 

CECILY. 

And you have been celebrated, ever since I can 
remember, as making the most artistic proposals 
of any man in the whole country-side ! 

GORDON. 
I know that. But I want to make one now that 
somebody'll believe. You never believed 'em. 
Nobody ever believed 'em. Besides, I don't want 
to make an "artistic proposal"! She'd laugh at 
me and tell me I had acquired the "proposal 
habit"! 

[33] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

CECILY. 

Well, so you have. 

GORDON. 
I deny it ! If I had, I'd know what to say to her. 
Say, Cecily, what did Owen say to you? 

CECILY (trying somewhat unsuccessfully to sub- 
due her laughter). 
He said — let me see ! Why, I don't remember. I 
don't think he said much of anything. I guess 
it was more what he did. 

GORDON. 

Well, what did he do? 

CECILY. 

Gordon ! 

GORDON. 
I know; but I've helped you out of many a tight 
place, Cecily — and you were never as badly caught 
as I am. If you love me, if you love — her, if you 
love Owen, or — or anybody, give me a lift! 

CECILY {trying to speak gravely). 
Well, I will, Gordon. Truly, I will ; but not now. 
I've got something else to do now. But I'll think 
about it. 

[34] 



MISS DOULTON'S ORCHIDS 

GORDON. 

Well, hurry up ! And say, Cecily — don't tell 
Owen! (Cecily laughs again.) I know {ruefully) ; 
I suppose it is funny. But wait a bit, won't you.'^ 

CECILY. 

Yes, I promise. I won't tell. Oh {suddenly 
grave), here come Polly and Bess now. 

Enter Bess, In street dress, followed by Polly. 

BESS. 

I'm off for town, Cecily. Can I do anything for 
you.? 

CECILY. 
I didn't know you were going. 

BESS. 

I'm going to see Marie Doulton. 

CECILY (coldly). 
Oh! 

POLLY. 

Tell her we're all coming to see her play to-morrow 
night. 

BESS. 
Yes, I will. Good-bye. (Exit Bess. Gordon 

[35] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

loohs after her for a moment, and then, with dogged 
deliberation, follows her,) 

POLLY. 

Oh, I can hardly wait to see her! You never saw 
her, did jou? 

CECILY. 

No, and I don't want to. 

POLLY. 

Why not.? 

CECILY. 
Oh — because. 

POLLY {lightly). 

Woman's reason. Because what.^* 

CECILY. 

I don't Hke her. 

POLLY {laughing), 
Cecily, I believe you are jealous! 

CECILY. 

Jealous! Of what? 

POLLY. 

Because Owen was in love with her once. 
[36] 



MISS DOULTON'S ORCHIDS 

CECILY. 

Owen in love with her! 

POLLY. 

Why, yes! Mercy! Didn't you know it? Bess 
told me. 

CECILY. 
Bess told you that Owen was in love with Marie 
Doulton ? 

POLLY. 
Oh, I'm sorry I told, if you didn't know it, Ce- 
cily! I thought Owen told you everything. 

CECILY. 

He does. What did she say .? 

POLLY. 

Oh, don't let's talk about it! 

CECILY. 

What did she say? 

POLLY {miserably). 
She said that for some time — ever so long ago, you 
know — Owen was simply infatuated with Marie 
Doulton, and that he sent her flowers and fruit 

and candy 

[37] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

CECILY (relieved). 
Oh, no, that was Ken ! 

POLLY. 

Ken! 

CECILY. 

Oh, good heavens! I didn't mean to tell you just 
yet, dear, but you'd have to know it within a few 
hours anyway, so it doesn't make very much dif- 
ference. 

POLLY. 
Have to know what? 

CECILY. 

About Ken. 

POLLY. 
What about Ken? 

CECILY. 

Why, you see, Ken was very much in love with 
Marie Doulton a few years ago, and nearly beg- 
gared himself sending her things 

POLLY. 

No, that was Owen! 

CECILY. 

Wait, dear! But everybody thought that was all 

over. I don't think he has seen her since she went 

[38] 



MISS DOULTON'S ORCHIDS 

on the stage — (doubtfully) I don't think he has 
— and he was quite a boy when all this happened. 
So when he fell in love with you, we were all per- 
fectly delighted. Oh, if I could only have known! 

POLLY. 

A Known what? Cecily, what are you talking about.? 

CECILY. 

This morning just before we told Owen of your 
engagement, he found out that Ken was sending 
flowers to Marie Doulton. 

POLLY. 

Cecily! 

CECILY. 

Oh, poor Polly ! I'm so sorry ! I — I wish it 
weren't true, but it is, and you must try to be 
brave about it, dear I He sent her five dozen roses. 

POLLY. 

I don't believe it! 

CECILY. 

Yes, dear, it's true. He told Owen to order them 
for him at Bauer's. 

POLLY. 

And was that the reason 

[39] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 
CECILY. 

That Owen didn't seem glad about the engage- 
ment? Yes. that's the reason. 

POLLY {piteously). 

Oh, there's some mistake! It couldn't be Ken! 
Why, Bess said it was Owen who was so much in 
love with her! She said he told her all about it, 
because she was such a friend of Miss Doulton's. 

CECILY. 
Owen told Bess? 

POLLY. 

Yes. Oh, you won't mind, Cecily! You mustn't 
mind now, because he loves you now ! But it must 
have been Owen ! 

CECILY. 

Well, it isn't Owen who's sending her five dozen 
roses to-day, anyway. It's Ken, for I saw the 
envelope that was to go with them, addressed in 
his writing. But — Polly, do you suppose Owen 
was in love with her? 

POLLY {in breaking tones). 

Oh, Cecily! Oh, Cecily, I want to go home! I 

want to go home! (She drops into a chair, sob- 

[40] 



MISS DOULTON'S ORCHIDS 

bing piteously. Cecily, with quivering lips, 
watches her for a moment, and then, kneeling be- 
side her, gathers Polly into her arms, and they 
weep together.) 

Curtain. 



[41] 



PART II 

Evening 

The scene is the same. 

Enter Cecily from the library, dressed for dvnner. 
She takes up Owen's photograph, studies it, 
wipes away a tear and sighs. P01.1.Y, also 
dressed for dinner, comes in from the hall and 
looks over Cecily's shoulder. 

CECILY (mournfully). 
He doesn't look as if he'd deceive his wife, does he? 

POLLY. 

No, but one can't tell. I — I'd have trusted Ken 
anywhere! In the face of anything! (Sobs.) 

CECILY (tremulously). 
Now, Polly, don't give way again. You must be 
brave, you know, and whatever you do, don't let 
him see that it hurts ! It — it's easier for you than 
it is for me, you see, for you — you haven't been 
married (swallowing a sob) ; smd — and Fm not 
giving way ! 

POLLY. 

No, but Owen hasn't been sending her flowers! I 

[42] 



MISS DOULTON'S ORCHIDS 

don't see why you care so much. I wouldn't care 
how many girls Ken had been in love with, if I 
were sure that he loved me better than any of them 
now. But to have him sending her flowers — such 
flowers, too! — the very day after he told me that 
—that {Sohs.) 

CECILY. 

But Owen has told me ever so many times that 
I was the only woman he ever really loved! Of 
course, I knew he had had his little flirtations, like 
other fellows, but I never supposed they were — 
Hke that 1 

POLLY. 
Now, Cecily, don't give up ! Don't ! After all the 
trouble we took to cover up the traces, we mustn't 
cry any more! We might just as well laugh! It 
won't do any good to cry. Let's laugh! {She 
laughs sohhingly^ and wipes her eyes.) Has Bess 
come home yet? 

CECILY. 
Yes ; I think she's asleep, though. I rapped on her 
door, and she didn't answer. I wish she'd come 
down. 

POLLY. 
But you won't try to talk about this now, will you? 
You mustn't, for you'd cry, and you know we 
agreed that we^d go through dinner just as usual. 
[43] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

CECILY. 

Oh, yes, just as usual! We'll show them that 
other people can feel one thing and act another. 

Enter Bess, in dinner dress, looking troubled. 

CECILY. 
Oh, Bess, I'm so glad you've come ! 
BESS {taking Cecily's hand sympathetically). 
You dear girl ! You look tired, Cecily. 

CECILY. 
Oh, I've such a headache ! 

POLLY. 
So've I! 

BESS (sighing), 
So've I! 

CECILY. 
Did you have a pleasant day.? 

BESS. 

No; horrid! 

CECILY. 
So did I! 

POLLY. 
So did I ! 

CECILY. 
Did you see — Miss Doulton.? 
[44] 



MISS DOULTON'S ORCHIDS 

BESS. 

Yes I don't think the stage has improved 

her any. 

CECILY. 
Don't you.? Why.? 

BESS. 

No, I don't! She's grown so — careless! There 
was a time when she wouldn't accept even flowers 
— awfully expensive ones, you know — from — well, 
from men who had no business to send them ! 

POLLY ( stifling a sob). 
From engaged men. 

BESS (glancing hastily at Cecily). 
Yes, or — from married men. 

CECILY (impulsively). 
Bess, is it true that Owen was in love with her.? 

BESS (reproachfully). 
Polly ! 

POLLY (hurriedly). 
1 thought she knew about it, Bess, or I wouldn't 
have told her. 

CECILY. 
Is it true.? 

[45] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 
BESS {reluctantly). 
Well — he was rather attentive to her for a time. 

CECILY. 

And is it true that he sent her things all the time 
— flowers and candy and all that — and — and just 
dangled after her.^^ 

BESS {impulsively). 
Yes, he did ! It is true ! 

POLLY {eagerly). 
Then it was Owen, after all, and not Ken.? 

BESS. 

No, it was — both of them. 

CECILY. 



Both of them ! 
Both of them ! 



POLLY. 



BESS. 



Yes, both of them. For a long time they were 
rivals, and— why, don't you remember, Cecily, 
that for several months Owen and Ken were hardly 
on speaking terms? It was only after Owen be- 
came engaged to you that Ken really forgave him. 
[46] 



MISS DOULTON'S ORCHIDS 
CECILY. 

And was that the reason? 

BESS. 

That was the reason. They were both in love with 
her. 

CECILY. 

And he never told me! He said I was the only 
woman he had ever loved! 

BESS (bitterly). 

Well, that should have been enough! Any man 
who will say that to a woman, expecting her to be- 
lieve it, is a confirmed flirt ! 

POLLY (dolefully). 

Yes, that's true! Ken told me that he had liked 
lots of girls, but that he had never cared deeply 
for one before, and — he was in love with her, too! 
And I'd have trusted Ken anywhere ! 

BESS. 

Oh, but Ken was only a boy! His devotion to 
her was rather funny — and really very pretty, too. 
It was intense while it lasted, but she's several years 
his senior, you know, so it wasn't very serious. 
14^} 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 
POLLY. 

Oh, but it was! And it is yet! He — ^he 

(She bursts into tears.) 

BESS. 

Why, Polly! 

CECILY. 

You see, Polly has just learned that Ken sent 
Marie Doulton a magnificent bunch of roses this 
morning. 

BESS. 
What? Ken! 

POLLY (hysterically). 
Yes, Ken! 

CECILY. 

He asked Owen to order them for him, because he 
had to go to Centerville. 

BESS. 

Roses! You're sure it wasn't orchids.'* 

CECILY. 

No, it was roses. Five dozen of the most expen- 
sive, he said. 

BESS (dropping into a chair). 

For heaven's sake! 

[48] 



MISS DOULTON'S ORCHIDS 

CECILY. 

And Owen told me about it. He was very angry. 

BESS (dril^). 
Oh, was he. 

CECILY. 
Why, of course he was ! Owen hates anything like 
that, you know. 

BESS (same tone). 
Yes, I know. 

CECILY. 
And I didn't mean to tell Polly, but it slipped 
out, and — she had to know it sooner or later, so 
it doesn't make much difference. 

POLLY. 

And Cecily and I have been crying all day 



CECILY. 

Until we looked perfect frights 

POLLY. 

And then we bathed our eyes and dressed 

CECILY. 

Because we don't want them to suspect that we 
know until after dinner. 

[49] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 
POLLY. 

We want to show them that we can be calm and 
dignified, even in the face of insult. 

CEiCILY. 

So we're going through the dinner just as if noth- 
ing had happened — 

POLLY (tremulously^). 

We're going to be just as self-possessed as possi- 
ble 

CECILY (with a responsive tremor). 

Y-y-yes, we're not going to sh-sh-shed a tear 

(She fumbles for her handkerchief.) 

POLLY. 

Nor show any emotion 

CECILY. 

Nor — nor anything! Where is my handkerchief! 
(Exit hurriedly, sobbing.) 

POLLY. 
Oh, Bess, isn't it awful ! 

BESS. 

It is that ! 

[60] 



MISS DOULTON'S ORCHIDS 
POLLY. 

Would you have believed it' of Ken ? 

BESS. 

Ken ? Oh, he's not so bad. It's Owen ! 

POLLY. 
Owen ! 

BESS. 

Yes, Owen. Look here, Polly, I didn't mean to 
say anything about it, but — I don't know what to 
do. I saw Owen buying orchids for Miss Doulton. 

POLLY. 

Orchids ! 

BESS. 

Yes, a great big box of them. A pretty price 
they must have cost him ! 

POLLY. 

Maybe they were for Cecily. 

BESS (scornfully). 

For Cecily! Did you ever know a man to buy a 

box — so big (illustrating) — of orchids for his 

wife? Besides, I saw them in her room afterward. 

[51] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

POLLY. 

Did you see the roses, too? Ken never sent me five 
dozen roses! 

BESS. 
I don't know. Oh, yes, I suppose so ! There were 
huge bunches of roses everywhere, but nothing 
compared with those orchids. 

POLLY (in tears). 
Oh, Bess! Oh, poor Cecily! Aren't men horrid! 
What shall we do? 

BESS. 
'Sh, here she comes ! Polly ! 'Sh ! We mustn't 
tell her ! 

POLLY. 
B-b-but I think she ought to know I 

BESS (doubtfully). 
Do you? 

POLLY. 

Yes, because if she finds out about it this time, it 
may prevent his doing it again. 

BESS. 

Well— I must think. Do hush, Polly ! 

POLLY (hysterically). 
Oh, I ca-ca-a-a-an't ! 

[52] 



MISS DOULTON'S ORCHIDS 

BESS. 

Then run away! 

Enter Cecily from the library, wearing a deter- 
mined smile, 

CECILY. 

Polly ! You promised you wouldn't cry any more ! 
Do go and bathe your eyes! {Exit Polly, weep- 
ing bitterly. Cecily continues resolutely.) Now, 
I'm going to be cheerful. Let me see ! I had some- 
thing on my mind to tell you. Oh, yes, it was 
Gordon ! 

BESS. 
His weight can't have oppressed you much! 

CECILY. 
Now, Bess, don't be hard on Gordon ! He's a dear ! 

BESS. 

To how many girls .? 

CECILY. 

Well, as he says himself, he's been sort of a public 
benefactor. He's prevented a lot of us from throw- 
ing ourselves away on other fellows. 

BESS. 

Who wants to marry a safety-valve? 
[53] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 
CECILY. 

But you see, the difference is just here. He never 
cared a thing in the world about one of us, and 
we all knew it; but he's desperately in love with 
you. You're the only woman he ever did love. He 
told me so himself. 

BESS {irritably). 

Good heavens ! It's bad enough to have a man 
say that to one in the privacy of a proposal, but 
when he goes about advertising it to one's 

friends ! 

CECILY. 

But it's true! I've known Gordon for years, and 
you're the only girl he ever knew to whom he was 
afraid to propose. 

BESS. 

Is the man so sure I'd accept him.f* 

CECILY. 

Oh, Bess, don't be horrid! Gordon would make 
such a good husband ! 

BESS. 

What am I that a miracle should be worked for 
me? 

[54] 



MISS DOULTON'S ORCHIDS 

CECILY {faintly smiling). 

Do you think it would be so hard for him to be a 
good husband? 

BESS. 

No harder than for any other man, I suppose. 

CECILY. 

Bess, sometimes I think you're getting bitter. 
You mustn't do that ! There are some horrid men 
in the world, but there are some splendid ones, too ! 
Now, there's Owen ! Of course, he isn't perfect — 
if he were, I don't know what he'd do with me! — 
and I'm impatient with him sometimes, but — ^just 
the same, Owen is such a dear, faithful, consider- 
ate, unselfish fellow ! I'd like to see you as happily 
married as I am ! 

BESS {irrepressihly). 

Heaven forfend! 

CECILY. 

Why, Bess! You like Owen! You know he's 
good to me! Now, don't you? . . . Bess! You 
do, don't you? {She touches Besses shoulder per- 
suasively.) 

BESS (choking with tears). 

Don't, Cecily ! Let me go ! 
[55] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

CECILY {holding Bess's arm). 

Bess! Bess! What do you mean? What is it? 
Tell me! (Bess shakes her head and tries vn vain 
to pull away.) You shall tell me! What is it? 

BESS. 

Nothing I 

Enter Polly. 

CECILY. 

It is! It's something about Owen! Isn't it? 
{Shakes Bess a little.) Isn't it? Do you know 
anything more about Owen that I don't know? 
Don't you think Owen is good to me? Bess! 

POLLY. 

Oh, tell her, Bess ! She'll find out some day, any- 
way, and then we'll wish we had warned her now. 

CECILY. 

Polly ! You know ? 

BESS {dully). 
Yes, Polly knows. I saw Owen buying an immense 
box of orchids at Bauer's 

CECILY. 

Roses, you mean. 

[66] 



MISS DOULTON'S ORCHIDS 

BESS. 

No, I don't ; I mean orchids. And later, I saw the 
same box brought to Marie Doulton. 

CECILY. 

Oh — oh, there's some mistake! He bought them 
for Ken. 

POLLY {bursting into tears agai/n). 
Ken ordered roses ! Oh, and I'd have trusted Ken 
through anything! 

BESS. 
When Marie opened them, I said: "What mag- 
nificent flowers!" and she laughed and replied: 
"Yes ; poor boy ! He still sends them." I said : "I 
saw him buying them. Do you think you have any 
right to accept them — now?" and she laughed 
again, in a careless sort of way, and said: "Well, 
I've told him not to send them, but he will do it ; and 
what woman could refuse flowers like that?" 

CECILY (breathlessly). 
Bess! 

BESS. 

And then I came away. I — I couldn't stay in the 
room with them! 

CECILY (piteously). 
Oh, Bess ! 

[57] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

BESS. 

And that's all. (Polly sobs and Cecily stares 
straight before her, as if stunned.) And I thank 
heaven {a little wildly) that I'm not married to any 
man! (Sobs chokingly.) 

POLLY. 
Bess, I believe you care for some one, too ! 

BESS (hurriedly). 
No, no, no! Not in the least! You understand, 
Polly ? Not in the least ! ( Cecily blindly extends 
her hand to Bess, who holds it tightly. Polly 
sobs disconsolately.) 

Enter Gordon, from the veranda. The girls all 
spring to their feet and turn their faces away 
from him. 

GORDON (cheerfully). 
Ah, I thought I heard voices! Why don't yoa 
come out on the veranda ? It's fine ! Well, I've got 
the seats for to-morrow night. We'll have a great 
time, eh? (Looks from one to another.) Why 
doesn't somebody say something? Overcome at the 
prospect of seeing the great beauty, Cecily? 

CECILY. 

I — I shall not see her. I'm not going. 

(Emt hurriedly.) 
[68] 



MISS DOULTON'S ORCHIDS 

GORDON. 

Not going ! Not going to see Marie Doulton ? 
What's up? You wouldn't miss it, Miss Winslow? 

POLLY. 

Nothing on earth would tempt me to go! 

(Exit hurriedly.) 
GORDON. 
Eh? Oh, I say! Why, see here, Miss Maynard, 
what does this mean? It's a joke, isn't it? They 
don't mean it seriously? 

BESS. 

They mean it very seriously. 



And you ? 

I mean it also. 


BESS. 
GORDON. 


By Jove ! 


What's 


up? 



BESS. 

We shall leave the contemplation of Miss Doulton's 
charms to the men of the household. 

GORDON. 

Why, I thought she was a friend of yours ! 
[59] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

BESS. 

She was — until to-day. 

GORDON. 

Oh, I see! You — er — disagreed, and the girls are 
resenting it with you. Sort of a sympathetic 
strike. 

BESS. 
On the contrary, I am only a sympathiser — but my 
sympathies are active ! 

GORDON. 

I'm glad to hear that, for I'm in need of them. I 
— I — oh, Bess, I can't lead up to it, but you must 
see how it is with me ! 

BESS. 

Oh, don't! {Covers her face with her hands.) 

GORDON, 

I know. You think I'm a sublime fraud and not to 
be trusted 

BESS {wearily, lifting her head). 
Perhaps you're as much to be trusted as any man. 

GORDON {hopefully). 
Bess! 

[60] 



MISS DOULTON'S ORCHIDS 
BESS. 

But there's not a man on earth I'd trust to the ex- 
tent of marrying him. Not one ! 

GORDON (falling back). 
Bess ! 

BESS. 

To you, we are all toys, kept for an otherwise idle 
hour. Your code is not our code; your ideals are 
not our ideals; your honour — thank heaven! — is 
not our honour. 

GORDON (simply), 
I don't think I understand. 

BESS (bitterly). 

Perhaps your friends, Mr. Belknap and Mr. Moore, 
will explain. 

GORDON. 

I may have been unfortunate enough to have of- 
fended you (Bess shakes her head), or some other 
man, of whom I know nothing, may have destroyed 
your faith in him, but it is not just — nor is it like 
you — to condemn the innocent with the guilty. 
Some of us — most of us, perhaps — are not all that 
we might be, but Owen Belknap and Kenneth Moore 
are two as straight fellows as the Lord ever made ! 
[61] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

BESS. 

Which completes the circle and brings us back to 
the starting-point. 

GORDON. 

Do you mean to tell me that you would not trust 
Owen ? 

BESS. 
I do. 

Nor Ken.? 

I do. 



GORDON, 
BESS. 



GORDON. 

Of course, you think you have reason .f* 

BESS. 
I have reason. 

GORDON {shaking his head). 
There's some mistake. Owen and Ken are abso- 
lutely to be trusted. 

BESS (impulsively). 
Which is the reason that Kenneth, who was madly 
in love with Marie Doulton for two years, sent her 
a magnificent bunch of roses to-day, although his 
engagement to Polly Winslow was announced only 
this morning ! 

[62] 



MISS DOULTON'S ORCHIDS 

GORDON. 

What! 

BESS. 

That is quite true. Cecily saw the envelope, hold- 
ing Ken's card and addressed in his writing, which 
was to go with them, and Owen ordered the flowers 
at Ken's request. 

GORDON. 

Owen ordered the flowers ! But don't you see, that 
in itself is Kenneth's vindication! The fact that 
he told Owen proves 

BESS {hopefully). 

Oh, do you think so? {Dejectedly.) Owen doesn't 
take that view of it. 

GORDON. 

Do you mean to say that Owen believes — ? (Bess 
nods.) But surely he disapproved .f^ 

BESS. 

Oh, yes, he disapproved — violently! He said va- 
rious condemnatory things to Cecily — and then 
went and ordered a box of orchids for Miss Doulton 
that completely overshadowed Ken's roses. I hap- 
pened to see him selecting them. 
[63] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

GORDON. 

They couldn't have been for Miss Doulton. They 
must have been for Cecily. 

BESS. 

Unfortunately, I was with Miss Doulton when they 
arrived. 

GORDON. 
Then he substituted orchids for roses in filling 
Ken's order. 

BESS. 
To what purpose.? Ken said roses; and the shops 
are full of them. You may not know that Owen, 
also, was very much in love with Miss Doulton at 
one time. In fact, he and Kenneth had a very bit- 
ter quarrel about her. 

GORDON. 

There's some absurd mistake in all this. Kenneth's 
a good deal of a kid — but he's not a cad; and as for 
Owen — oh, it's impossible! Did you see Owen's 
card with the orchids .? 

BESS. 

It wasn't necessary. I saw him select and pay for 
them ; and Miss Doulton admitted that she had for- 
bidden him to continue sending them, but said he 
would do it. 

[64] 



MISS DOULTON'S ORCHIDS 

GORDON. 
I tell you, there's some mistake ! 

BESS. 

How about the roses that Ken asked Owen to order? 
I suppose that's a mistake, too.? 

GORDON. 

I still think that the very fact that he confided in 
Owen proves the integrity of his motive. 

BESS. 

He probably counted on the honour that prevails 
among thieves — (bitterly) and Owen failed him, 
even there! 

GORDON. 

I'll never believe it until they tell me themselves. 
. . . I suppose Cecily and Miss Winslow know 
all this.? 

BESS. 
Yes. 

GORDON (gravely). 

And is this the cause of your bitter denunciation 
of all men.? 

BESS. 
Isn't it enough.? If Owen and Ken are not to be 
trusted 

[65] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 
GORDON. 

But they are to be trusted ! Believe me, they are ! 
(Bess shakes her head, hut less positively.) If I 
prove it — if I prove that this is all a mistake, will 
you grant, also, that perhaps I am more earnest 
than I have been painted, and give me a chance? 

BESS (faltering). 

But I saw 

GORDON. 

Never mind what you saw ! If I prove that Owen 
and Ken are trustworthy, will you trust me, too.? 

BESS. 

If you can prove that Ken did not order five dozen 
roses sent to Marie Doulton this morning, and if 
you can prove that Owen did not send the orchids 
that I saw him pay for, that I saw delivered, and 
that she admitted she ought not to accept, I'll 

GORDON. 

Yes? 

BESS (laughing nervously), 

I'll believe anything else you choose to tell me! 

(Exit to library,) 

GORDON. 

Whew! (Sits and shakes his head dubiously.) 
[66] 



MISS DOULTON'S ORCHIDS 
. Enter Kenneth from the veranda, 

GORDON. 

Hullo, jou young jackanapes ! Where' ve you been 
all day? 

KENNETH (disgustedly), 

Centerville. Where are the girls? 

GORDON. 

Well, you'd better have been at home, 'tending to 
your knitting work. 

KENNETH. 

Couldn't help it. It was business. 

Enter PoiiLY from the hall, 

KENNETH. 

That idiot of an agent up there — oh, here's Polly ! 
{Advances eagerly toward her.) 

POLLY {coldly^ avoiding him). 
Good evening. 

KENNETH. 

Eh? I say, what's up? 

GORDON {watching keenly). 
As I said, Kenneth, vou dropped a stitch and your 
" [67] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

knitting work got tangled in your absence. Now, 
how about 

Enter CECiiiY from the library. 

KENNETH (eagerly). 
Hullo, Cecily! What's wrong? (Cecily turns 
her back on him.) Well, by Jove, I think you 
might tell a fellow! 

GORDON. 

I'm trying, with what patience is in me, to ex- 
plain 

Enter Owen from the veranda. He carries a box 
of carnations. 

KENNETH. 

I say, Owen! What's wrong? 

OWEN (going at once to Cecily). 
Well, sweetheart? (She slips past him, with a re- 
proachful glance.) What's the matter, dear? 
Here ; I brought you some carnations. (Her glance 
becomes scornful and she steps back. ) Why, what's 
the matter? 

KENNETH. 

Well, that's what I want to know! Here I come 

in, after a deuce of a day at Centerville, and they 

[68] 



MISS DOULTON'S ORCHIDS 

all treat me as if I were a convict ! And you seem 
to be equally unpopular! Oh, l\ere comes Bess! 

Enter Bess from the veranda, 

KENNETH. 
Say, Bess, what's wrong? 

BESS. 

You'd better ask what's right? It would indicate 
a more hopeful condition of your moral sense! 

OWEN. 

But see here 1 

KENNETH. 

Well, I swear! Gordon, do you know anything 
about this? 

GORDON. 
No; but I hope to untangle it. It's primarily 
about some orchids, I believe. 

KENNETH (^m:22M). 
Orchids I 

GORDON. 
Now, this is Owen's knitting work. Ken. You keep 
out. 

OWEN. 
Well, what about them? 

[69] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

GORDON. 

You sent some to Miss Doulton? 

OWEN. 

No, I didn't send them. That is {Hesitates.) 

BESS. 

Owen Belknap! 

GORDON {patiently). 
Now, if you please, Miss Maynard, this is my dem- 
onstration. Yours will come later — I hope. (Bess 
hites her lip.) Now, Owen.? You didn't send 
them ? 

OWEN. 

No, I — well (glancing at Polly), I'd rather not 
explain here. What about them, anyway.'* 

GORDON. 

Well, if you have any explanation to offer, you'd 
better get about it. Right here, too. A hypothet- 
ical cat seems to have escaped from an equally hy- 
pothetical bag, but there's no secret about it. I'm 
right, ladies.? There's no secrecy.? Now, Owen. 

OWEN (troubled). 

But — you see^ (He hesitates and looks at 

Kenneth.) 

[70] 



MISS DOULTON'S ORCHIDS 

KENNETH. 

Out with it, Owen ! If you hold the key to this mys- 
tery, for heaven's sake, produce it! 

OWEN. 

Well, it's simply this. I ordered those orchids at 
Ken's request, but why you should stand me up 

and 

CECILY. 
Oh, Owen! 

KENNETH. 
I didn't say archids ! I said roses ! ( Polly hursts 
into tears.) 

OWEN. 
I know you did. You said you wanted five dozen, 
of the choicest variety. You also informed me 
{sarcastically) that expense was no object, and as 
Bauer had not five dozen fine roses of one kind in 
his shop, and as he had some particularly good 
orchids, I thought I'd satisfy your desire for a 
large bill, so I ordered the orchids sent with your 
card. But I must say, Kenneth {severely) 

KENNETH {aghast). 
With my card! 

CECILY {patting Owen's arm). 

Oh, I knew all the time there must be some such 

[71] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

explanation! I didn't really believe it for a mo- 
ment ! Bess, you might have known ! 

POLLY (sobbing). 
And I'd have trusted Ken through anything! 

KENNETH. 

Now, look here! You people don't think, for one 

minute 

CECILY. 
Oh, we all know what ^/o^^ did ! 

BESS. 

Polly, dear, don't! (She tries to soothe sobbing 
Polly. ) 

KENNETH (hotly). 
I suppose you all think that because I ordered 
some roses sent to Marie Doulton, I'm a double- 
faced scoundrel, don't you? 

CECILY. 

Some roses! 

KENNETH. 

I suppose you've all been retailing the story of my 
youthful infatuation and sitting in judgment upon 
me, haven't you? You've even been torturing 
Polly about it — and (sorrowfully) she believed 
you! 

[72] 



MISS DOULTON'S ORCHIDS 

CECILY. 

Well, but you told Owen , 

KENNETH. 

Of course I told Owen ! I'll tell all of you if you'll 
keep still long enough to hear it! I got a letter 
from Fred Grover this morning — he's down at his 
mother's, sick 

(Polly springs up, her face lighting.) 

BESS. 

Oh, well, never mind 



GORDON. 

The defendant has the stand! 

KENNETH. 

He said Marie had refused him again 

CECILY. 

Well, is that any reason why you should send her 
five dozen roses? Just after 

POLLY. 

Oh, Cecily, do keep still! Don't you see? They 
were for him ! 

KENNETH. 
That's it ! They were for Fred ! 
[73] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

POLLY. 

Oh, Ken! 

CECILY. 
But the card ! 

KENNETH. 

Was his, I suppose. / didn't look at it. All I did 
was to put her address on the envelope. 

POLLY. 

Oh, Ken! (She runs off to the veranda, pursued hy 
Kenneth.) 

CECILY. 

Then all this has been — Oh, Owen! {She looTcs 
penitently at him and extends an entreating hand, 
which he takes tenderly. They disappear in the 
library.) 

GORDON. 

Miss Maynard, I submit that I have proved my 
case. 

BESS. 

Wasn't it rather — ^vicarious? 

GORDON. 

Nevertheless, it is proved. Now will you be- 
lieve 



MISS DOULTON'S ORCHIDS 

BESS 

{breathlessly, making one last stand for her con- 
victions). 

All but one thing. Don't ever attempt to convince 
me that — that 

GORDON {eagerly impatient). 
Well? 

BESS. 

That I'm the only woman you ever loved ! 

GORDON {with triumphant conviction). 

But you are! {He steps toward her with out- 
stretched arms.) 



Quick Curtain. 



[76] 



THE BURGLAR 



THE BURGLAR 

A Comedy in One Act 

CHARACTERS 

Mrs. John Burton^ the hostess. 

Mrs. Valerie Armsby^ a young widow, 

Mrs. Charles Dover, a bride. ^ '~'^" 

Miss Freda Dixon. 

Miss Edith Brent. 



The cottage occupied hy Mrs. Burton is one of 
the flimsy structures erected hy the owners of. pop- 
ular summer hotels, in which guests may gain in 
privacy what they lose in protection from fire, flood, 
and thievery. 

The sitting-room, a rectangular apartment, hav- 
ing little to recommend it architecturally, is lined 
with doors, one of which leads to the veranda, oth- 
ers opening into the bedrooms used hy Mrs. Bur- 
ton and her guests. There are several windows. 

The furniture is mainly of wicker and rattan, a 
few photographs and lightly framed water-colors 
hreah the monotony of the walls, a writing-tahle is 
supplied with somewhat luxurious fittings, and 
Mrs. Burton has contrived, hy the judicious im- 
portation of cushion's, vases, hits of drapery, etc., 
to imhue the bleak little room with a suggestion of 
her own grai^ious femininity. 

Mabel Dover, a diminutive and impetuous 
brunette, sits at the table, writing. She reads her 
letter, kisses it, folds, addresses, seals, and stamps 
it. Then she yawns wearily. After listening in 
vain for approaching steps, she puts in order the 
papers littering the table, and yawns again. Pres- 
[79] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

ently women's voices are heard outside. Mabel. 
smiles and turns expectantly toward the door lead- 
ing to the veranda. 

Enter Peggy Burton, sensitive, nervous, and imr- 
pulsive; Valerie Armsby, optimistic and 
calm; brisk, competent, cheery Freda Dixon, 
and Edith Brent, a slender, fragile, big-eyed, 
soft-voiced girl, whose gentle manner is almost 
deprecating. They are talking excitedly. 

VALERIE. 

Well, I should think it would have turned her hair 
grey! Imagine waking out of a sound sleep to 
find a man in one's room! Ugh! 

FREDA. 

Oh, he wasn't in her room! He was just in the 
doorway. 

MABEL. 
In whose room? 

EDITH. 
Yes, he was just going, with all her vili'^s and pins 
and things. 

MABEL. 
Whose rings .P 

PEGGY. 
Noj that wasn't the way at all ! She told me her- 
self. He was 

[80] 



THE BURGLAR 

MABEL. 

Who was? Girls, what are you talking about? 

PEGGY. 

Oh, Mabel, you should have been with us! The 
most awful thing has happened ! 

MABEL. 

Oh, what was it? 

PEGGY. 
The Endicott's cottage was burglarised last 
night 

EDITH. 
And she woke just as the man was leaving the room 
with all her things ! 

MABEL. 
Oh! 

VALERIE. 
No, she saw him standing before her dressing-table, 
taking her 

FREDA. 
Not at all ! The man was just in the doorway 

EDITH. 

Yes, just leaving. 

PEGGY. 
No, that wasn't the way at all ! She told me all 
about it herself. 

[81] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

MABEL. 

Did he really get all her things? 

VALERIE. 

Yes, every single piece of jewelry she had here, ex- 
cept her watch. That was under her pillow. 

MABEL. 

Oh, how awful ! 

FREDA. 

He took all her rings. 

PEGGY. 

Except her wedding-ring. She never takes that 
off. 

EDITH. 
And all her pins. You remember that lovely dia- 
mond crescent .f^ 

MABEL. 
Oh, did he get that.? 

PEGGY. 
Yes, and her necklace with the ruby pendant. 

FREDA. 

Well, I think she deserves to lose them ! The idea 
of keeping all those valuable things in a little 
flimsy cottage ! Why didn't she take them to the 
hotel and have them put in the safe ? 
[88] 



V 

THE BURGLAR ^j^ 

VALERIE. 

Well, she'd been entertaining the wfeist^lub in the 
afternoon, and she had a lot of people to dinner, 
and so she wanted those things to wear. 

EDITH. 

And when her guests were gone, she was tired and 
thought she wouldn't bother about the things until 
morning. 

FREDA. 

Well, it's excessively bad taste to wear that sort 
of thing in the country, anyway. 

VALERIE. 

1'hat doesn't alter the fact that she lost them all, 
and was nearly frightened to death besides. 

MABEL. 

Do somebody tell me what happened ! 

{The others all speak at once ^' as follows.) 

VALERIE. 

Well, she woke and saw 

FREDA. 

He was in the doorway \ hen .. 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

EDITH. 

She was awakened by a queer sound 

PEGGY. 

Well, she told me herself 

{There is dead silence, as they look indignantly 
from one to another. ) 

MABEL. 

Oh, if you're all going to talk at once ! 

VALERIE. 

Well, you see 

EDITH. 
It was just this way 

FREDA. 

Her brother told me 

PEGGY. 

Well, she told me ! Now, will you listen ! It hap- 
pened just this way. She woke all at once — as if 
she'd been called, don't you know? — with the feel- 
ing that some one was in her room. You know ; a 
sort of creepy, startled, awful feeling! 

EDITH {shuddering). 
Oh, just think of it! ^ 

[80 



THE BURGLAR 

PEGGY. 

And then she heard footsteps — slow, stealthy sort 
of steps— — 

MABEL (glancing over her shoulder). 
Oh! Goon! 

PEGGY. 
And then — it was bright moonlight and the cur- 
tains were up — she saw a man coming into her 
room ! 

MABEL {shrilly screaming). 
Oh! 

EDITH. 
NO) he was going out. 

VALERIE. 

No, he was already in ! 

PEGGY (firmly). 
He was just entering. She told me so herself. 

FREDA. 

Her brother told me that the man was just in the 
doorway, going out. 

EDITH. 
Yes, he was. 

PEGGY (crushingly). 
Well, as her brother wasn't there and she was, per- 
haps you'll admit that she's the better authority. 
[85] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

And she lay there, stiff with fright, and watched 
that man go to her dressing-table and take all her 
lovely things, and she never made a sound ! 

EDITH. 

Oh, I don't see how she could keep still ! 

MABEL {promptly). 
Oh, I do! When I'm frightened, I simply can't 
scream! It seems to paralyse my vocal chords. 

FREDA. 

What good would it do to scream, I'd like to know? 
He was already out of her room. 

PEGGY. 

Freda! You are so obstinate! He was just enter- 
ing the room, and if she had screamed it would 
have frightened him away. 

FREDA. 

Well, maybe it would and maybe it wouldn't! I 
once heard of a woman who screamed at a burglar, 
and he jumped over to the bed and choked her into 
insensibility. {The others huddle together with 
nervous ejaculations.) Catch me making any fuss 
if I see a burglar! He can just take everything 
there is, as long as he doesn't disturb me, and I'll 
not try to stop him! 

[86] 



THE BURGLAR 

PEGGY {irritaUy). 
Yes, and I verily believe it wouldn't "disturb" you, 
as you say, if he took every earthly thing you pos- 
sessed ! 

FREDA {laughing). 
Oh, well — ! Come on, girls, let's go to bed. 

PEGGY, EDITH. 
To bed? 

FREDA {yawning). 
Yes, it's all hours. 

PEGGY. 
Go to bed — with that man at large? 

MABEL. 

Oh! Didn't they catch him? 

VALERIE. 

No, she never made a sound until he was well out 
of the way. 

MABEL {shrilly). 
And they haven't found him yet? 

FREDA. 

No, they can't even find a clue. 

MABEL. 

Oh, girls! And you left me here all alone, this 
whole evening ! How could you ! 
[87] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

VALERIE. 

Why didn't you come with us? 

MABEL. 

I wanted to write to Charhe. 

FREDA (mischievously). 
To Charlie! Why, you spent the whole morning 
writing to him ! 

MABEL. 
Certainly ; but I couldn't tell him this morning 
what happened this afternoon, could I? 

VALERIE. 

And I suppose you'll spend to-morrow morning 
writing him what happened during the night? 

PEGGY (shuddering). 
Oh, don't, Val! It sounds as if you expected a 
burglar here! 

MABEL (with dignity). 
I shall certainly write him about this affair. 

FREDA. 

But he's coming down to-morrow, isn't he? 

MABEL. 

Yes, but he'll get the letter just before he starts, 
[88] 



THE BURGLAR 

you know; and, oh (with a sobbing breath), when 
CharKe gets here, I sha'n't have to stay all alone in 
a great, empty house, with burglars and murder- 
ers and — and brigands — all around me! 

VALERIE (shrugging her shoulders). 
Well, "you pays your money and you takes your 
choice" ! You might have come with us. 

EDITH (her arm around Mabel). 
I think you girls are perfectly heartless ! Poor 
Mabel might have been horribly frightened! 

MABEL. 

Yes, or even murdered! 

FREDA. 

Well, anyhow, she wasn't; and I don't believe 
there's any danger anyway. 

PEGGY. 

Freda! You aren't really going to bed! 

FREDA. 

Why, of course I am ! Aren't you ? 

PEGGY. f 

No! ■""^■^ 

FREDA. 
Nor you, Mabel? 

[89] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

MABEL. 
I — I — don't know. I was very sleepy before you 
came, but — oh, (whimpering) I wish Charhe would 
come! 

FREDA. 
You're not afraid, Yal? 

VALERIE (glancing over her shoulder). 
Oh, no ! No, I — I'm not afraid. 

PEGGY. 

Oh, I wouldn't go to bed for anything ! Not after 
this ! 

FREDA (flfr%). 
Going to spend the remainder of your life looking 
four ways at once for a burglar ? It won't improve 
your appearance. 

MABEL. 
Oh, and Charlie's coming to-morrow, too! I must 
manage to get some sleep or I'll look like a perfect 
ghost ! 

FREDA. 
Now, you girls go to bed sensibly. It's extremely 
unlikely that there will be another burglary to- 
night; and, anyway, we have nothing to tempt a 
thief. 

PEGGY. 
We have our rings. 

[90] 



THE BURGLAR 

FREDA. 

Yes, but that's all. Now, go on ! Go to bed ! 

PEGGY (looking at the others). 
Will you, girls? Do you think we'd better.'' 

EDITH (tremulously). 
Oh, I'm so frightened ! 

MABEL. 

Oh, I wish Charlie had come to-night ! 

PEGGY. 

I shall never let Jack leave me in the summer again ! 
In town, I don't mind — so much, but it's horrible 
to be left unprotected like this in the country ! 

VALERIE. 

Well, I don't see why that woman didn't scream 
last night, so somebody could catch the thief. 

PEGGY. 

Nor I. So selfish of her ! Just because she was a 
little frightened, she subjects all of us to this awful 
danger ! 

FREDA. 
Pouf ! There isn't a bit of danger ! I'm going to 
bed. Good night. (She goes to her door,) 
[91] 



-sa:z 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

PEGGY. 

Aren't you really a bit afraid, Freda ? 

FREDA. 

No, of course I'm not! There's nothing to be 
afraid of! Good night. (She enters her room, clos- 
ing the door after her. ) 

EDITH. 

Are you going to bed, Peggy ? 

PEGGY. 

No — yes — oh, I don't know 1 Oh, I want Jack ! 

MABEL. 

If Charlie had only come to-night! 

PEGGY. 

Well, why didn't you arrange it.? He might have 
come just as well as not, as far as I'm concerned. 

MABEL. 

Why, Peggy ! Your invitation was for him to 
come from Saturday to Monday. 

PEGGY (impatiently^). /^ 
Well, suppose it was?, You might have known 
that we should need a man here ! I thought only of 
[92] 



r^ THE BURGLAR 

Charlie's business. ' Jack iiever can get away Fri- 
day night. 

MABEL (complacently). 
Charlie has no business that interferes with his duty 
to me! 

PEGGY (irritably). 
Well, why isn't he here, then.'* Heaven knows, if 
ever you needed him, it's now ! 

VALERIE. 

Oh, well, Freda's probably right. I dare say there 
isn't an atom of danger. Come on! Let's go to 
bed. 

MABEL. 
Suppose he should come in the night. What should 
we do.f* 

EDITH. 
Scream ! 

MABEL. 
Ohj I couldn't! I can't make a sound when I'm 
frightened ! 

PEGGY. 
I heard of a woman who screamed at a burglar one 
night until she permanently injured her vocal 
chords, and her voice was never the same again. 

MABEL, VALERIE. 
0-oh! 

[93] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

EDITH. 

My mother once knew a woman who lay perfectly 
still while a burglar felt under the mattress on 
which she lay and took out some silver; and when 
she tried to scream she' couldn't ! Her throat, or 
something, was paralysed, and she didn't recover 
her voice for more than a year. 

y 

MABEL, PEGGY. 

Oh, Edith! 

FREDA (in her own room, sleepily). 
Oh, girls, do go to bed ! Mabel, you'll be a fright 
to-morrow if you don't get some sleep ! 

'^.'^l^: MABEL.. 

• 

That's so — and Charlie's coming! Well (desper- 
ately), I'm going! Good night, girls. 

THE OTHERS. 

Good night. 

I (Mabel pauses^ a moment by her^ door, peeps cau- 

* ^ tiously into her room, and goes out. Some- 

thin^Jjalls mJFuEDA's room. Mabel runs on 
again, screaming shrilly. The girls clutch 
one another and listen without breathing.) 

MABEL (whispering). 
Oh, what was that.'* 

[94] 



THE BURGLAR 

PEGGY. ^ 
I — I don't know. 

VALERIE {cautiously, at Freda's door). 
Freda ! Freda, did you hear that ? 

FREDA {in her room). 
Hear what? 

VALERIE. . 
That noise. 

FREDA. 

Why, of course I did ! I dropped my shoe. 
{The girls separate, foolishly laughing.) 

PEGGY. 

Oh, certainly ! I thought — I thought it sounded 
Hke a shoe ! 

VALERIE. 

With a man's foot in it! What geese we were! 
(Mabel goes to her door and peeps in again.) 
Oh, go on, Mabel ! We're all here, and wide awake. 
There's no danger, anyway. (Mabel goes out.) 

PEGGY. 

Why, that's so! Burglars always wait for the 
lights to be out, don't they? I'll tell you what 
we'll do ! We'll leave a light here all night. 

[95] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

VALERIE. 

Why, of course ! 

FREDA (in her room). 
Girls, please go to bed ! 

Enter Mabel, wearing a charming dressing-gown, 

PEGGY (alarmed). 
What's the matter? 

, MABEL (whispering). 

I'm going to hide my rings, each in a different 
place, so if he finds one I'll still have the rest. 

PEGGY. 

Oh, splendid ! ( Thei/ tiptoe about, apprehensively 
glancing to right and left, and hide their rings i/n 
all sorts of absurd places. Peggy slips one under 
a rug, and Mabel, standing on a chair, hangs a 
glowing ruby on a pin which she has thrust into 
the wall. Presently she nods to the girls and re- 
turns to her room.) 

VALERIE (yawning). 
Well, I'm getting sleepy, too. Good night, girls. 

PEGGY. 

Oh, Val, don't leave us ! 

[96] 

A 



THE BURGLAR 

VALERIE. 

You go to ! To bed, I mean ! Good night. 

(^Exit to her room.) 

PEGGY. 

Oh, Edith, I'm so frightened ! You come and sleep 
with me. 

EDITH. 
Oh, no ! I'd be awfully afraid in your room ! It 
has those long windows opening on the side porch. 
He might come in there. You come and sleep with 
me. 

PEGGY. 
"^h, not for worlds ! I shouldn't sleep a wink in 
that room ! It's at the back of the house, and burg- 
lars always come in from the back. 







EDITH. 






Well- 




PEGGY. 






Well- 




EDITH {reluctantly). 






Good 


night, 


then. 

PEGGY. 






Good 


night. 


{They tiptoe to their 


doors 


and 


pause. 


■) 


EDI'I'H {whispering). 






Did you hear anything.? 










[97] 







COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

PEGGY. 

No. Did you ? 

EDITH. 

No. 

{Noddmg reassuringly at each other they go out.) 

Peggy reappears again immediately, tiptoes to 
each window to see that it is fastened, tries 
the door leading to the veranda, listens at 
each bed-room door, and is about to re-enter 
her room when Edith, entering suddenly 
from her own apartment, gives utterance to 
strange, inarticulate sounds. 

PEGGY (startled). 
Oh ! Good gracious, Edith ! 

EDITH (panting). 
Oh, Peggy, how you frightened me ! What are you 
doing ? 

PEGGY. 
I came to see if everything was all right. Mabel's 
light's out and Freda's asleep. I can tell by her 
breathing. 

EDITH. 
I'm sorry I screamed and startled you. 

PEGGY. 

You didn't scream. 

[98] 



THE BURGLAR 

EDITH. 
Oh, yes, I did ! When I saw you. It frightened 
me so. 

Valerie creeps cautiously in, in negligee, 

VALERIE {relieved). 
Oh, girls, it's you ! 

PEGGY, EDITH (m alarm). 
Did you hear anything? 

VALERIE. 
Well, I thought I did — but probably it was you. 

EDITH. 

It was I. I came out and found Peggy here — and 
I screamed. 

PEGGY. 
\ ou didn't scream at all ! You just made a funny, 
choking sound. 

EDITH. 
Nonsense ! You were so frightened yourself you 
don't know what I did ! I simply shrieked ! 

VALERIE. 

I didn't hear you. 

EDITH. 
Well, I did! I always scream when I'm frightened. 
I can't help it. 

•LofC. t9»] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

PEGGY. 

Well 

VALERIE. 

Well, good night. 

PEGGY, EDITH. 

Good night. 

PEGGY {pausing at her door). 
Listen ! What was that ? 

j^^ ^ EDITH (at her door). 

^f^ What.? 

VALERIE (at her door). 
I didn't hear anything. 

PEGGY. 

Oh, didn't you? Oh, well — good night. 

(Thetiall go out.) 



\ 



After a pause, there is heard the sound of a falling 
body i/n Mabel's room. A momentary silence 
is followed by piercing shrieks from Mabel, 
who runs on, wrapping a bath-robe about her 
and still wildly screaming. Peggy, Edith, 
and Valerie, all in negligee, enter hastily. 
Edith gasps convulsively and clutches her 
throat. 

[100] 



THE BURGLAR 

PEGGY ( hysterically ) . 
Oh, what was it? Oh, Mabel, did you see any- 
thing ? 

MABEL. 
Didn't you hear it? 0-oh! (Screams.) Oh! Oh! 

VALERIE. 

Of course we heard it ! 

Enter Freda, wearing a bath-rohe and blinking 
sleepily. 

VALERIE. 

Oh, Freda, did you hear it ? 

FREDA. 

Hear what? What was it? 

EDITH. 

Oh, I don't know ! 

PEGGY. 
It was — -a man! 

MABEL (screaming). 
Oh ! Did you see him ? 

PEGGY. 
I — I don't know. I think I did. I'm sure I saw a 
shadow steal across my curtain just before 

[ 101 1 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 
MABEL. 

He was in my room! (Screams,) 

FREDA. 

Are you sure? 

VALERIE. 
Did you see him? 

PEGGY. 
How do you know ? 

EDITH. 
Did he touch you? 

MABEL. 

No, but he was there ! He knocked something off 
the table, and then — I sat up in bed and Kstened, 
and, girls — I heard him breathe ! ( The girls crowd 
, together, cowering and exclaiming,) 

^ PEGGY. 

Oh, what shall we do? 

FREDA (severely). 

^ J J"^ Peggy, you ought to have a telephone in the house 
for just such emergencies, if for nothing else. (A 
slight creaking makes them all start nervously.) 

/rY\^ ^)^'^'^^ MABEL. 

> Oh, did you hear anything ? 

[lOS] 






THE BURGLAR 

PEGGY. 

Yes, didn't you? 

FREDA. 

It was just the house creaking, I think. 

VALERIE (uncertainly). 
Yes, of course, that was it? 

PEGGY. 

Did you see the man, Freda? 

FREDA. 

I was asleep. The first thing I heard was Mabel 
screaming. 

MABEL (indignantly). 

I didn't scream ! I never scream when I'm fright- 
ened! I can't! 

EDITH. 
I screamed, Freda. 

VALERIE. 

No, you didn't. You just gurgled a little, but 
Mabel shrieked! 

MABEL. 

I didn't! 0-o-(5h! (Screams and clutches Freda.) 
What was that? I saw something moving in my 
room. Oh, girls, he's in there! 
[103] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

PEGGY. 

Oh, what shall I do? Oh, I'll never let Jack leave 
me again ! 

MABEL (moaning). 
Oh, Charlie! Charlie! 

VALERIE. 

Well, what are we going to do ? 

FREDA. 

We might pull the door suddenly shut and lock it. 

PEGGY. 

Oh, he might set fire to the house ! 

EDITH. 

He'd surely steal all Mabel's things, then ! 

VALERIE. 
He'd escape through the window. 

MABEL. 

Besides, the key's on the inside. 

FREDA. 

We might blow a police-whistle. 

PEGGY. 

Oh, no I We'd have to stand at the window to make 
[ 104 ] 



THE BURGLAR 

anybody hear us, and then he might — shoot us! 
(Edith and Mabel moan.) 

FREDA. 

We might — Peggy, is Jack's revolver down here ? 

PEGGY. 

Yes, but — oh, Freda, you won't use that? You 
mustn't, Freda! You might shoot somebody! 

FREDA (grimly). 
That's what guns are for. Go and get it. 

PEGGY (whimpermg). 
Oh, no, Freda ! 

EDITH. 
Oh, I'm so frightened ! 

MABEL (sobbing). 
Don't, Freda ! Don't ! 

FREDA. 

He has a shotgun, too, hasn't he? 

PEGGY. 

Yes. 

FREDA. 
Where is it.? 

[ 105 ] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

PEGGY. 

In my room. 

FREDA. 
Bring that, too. 

PEGGY (pleadingly). 
Oh, Freda! 

VALERIE. 

What are you going to do, Freda ? 

FREDA. 

I'm going to help capture that man, if I can. 

VALERIE. 

Oh, he isn't there now ! He's surely gone out of a 
window by this time, we've made such a fuss ! 

PEGGY. 

Oh, do you think so? Listen! 

MABEL (hysterically). 
0-oh ! Girls, I hear something ! Don't you hear 
something ? 

FREDA. 
Keep still, Mabel ! Peggy, go and get that gun. 

PEGGY. 

Oh, no, Freda ! Oh ! ( loudly, turning toward Ma- 
[ 106 ] 



THE BURGLAR 

eel's open door) won't you please go 'way? We 
won't hurt you if 

FREDA {sternly). 
Peggy! If that man's in the house, we ought to 
keep him here until the police come. 

PEGGY. 

Well, I don't see why ! If he'll go away peacefully, 
that's all I'll ask of him. 

FREDA. 

But we ought to see that he's captured. 

PEGGY. 

What are the police for ? Let them catch him ! I 
don't want anything to do with it ! 

FREDA. 

But if we let him escape again, he'll terrify — and 
perhaps murder — other women, 

MABEL. 

Oh, Freda! {Screams.) 

PEGGY. 

Well, perhaps they'll have some men to protect 
them. We can't send word to anybody until morn- 
ing. 

[107] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

\y ^^ FREDA. 

Then we'll keep him here all night. 

THE OTHERS (in comternation). 
All night ! 

FREDA (firmly). 
All night ! We have no right to let him escape, as 
Mrs. Endicott did, to repeat this sort of thing. 
Peggy, the guns ! 

PEGGY (whimpering). 
Oh, I'm afraid! 

FREDA. 

I'll go with you, then. Come! (She pulls the re- 
luctant Peggy toward the door, where they pause a 
moment listening, and then enter Peggy's room. ) 

MABEL. 

Oh, I wonder if he's in there still? I heard him 
breathe ! 

VALERIE. 
And Peggy said she saw him go across the veranda. 
She saw his shadow on her curtain ! 

EDITH. 

I heard a queer sound, too. Girls! The bath is 
next my room, and I believe that window was left 



open! 



[108] 



i 



THE BURGLAR 

VALERIE. 

It was. It's always open. It's stuck in the casing 
and can't be moved. 

MABEL. 
Then that's where he got in. 

r , EDITH. . 

He must have come right through this room! 
{They huddle together.) He must have entered 
Mabel's room by that door. 

MABEL. 

V Oh, I might have been murdered in my bed! {A 
sound as of something striking the floor firmly is 
heard in Yeggy^s room.) 0-oh! 0-o-oh! Did you 
hear that .f* 

EDITH. 
Oh, maybe he's in there now! Maybe {gasping) 
he's killing the girls! 

VALERIE. 

Oh, no, he couldn't — could he ? One of them would 
scream ! 

Enter Peggy and Freda. Peggy carries the shot- 
gun tremblingly before her, and Freda flour- 
ishes a revolver. As they appear, the others 
all cower, with exclamations. 
[109] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

VALERIE. 

Oh, oh, Freda! 

MABEL. 
Oh, don't! Oh, don't I 

EDITH. 

Oh, girls! Peggy! Peggy! 

FREDA. 

Now, if that man's in Mabel's room, we'll do what 
we can to keep him there until help comes. 

VALERIE. 

Well, if he's there after all this, he's either a fool 
or a lunatic ! 

PEGGY. 
Oh, mercy ! Val ! Oh, girls, suppose he should be 
a crazy man ! 

EDITH. 
He might try to kill us all ! 

MABEL. 

Or set fire to the house! Don't you smell smoke.? 
{They all sniff expectantly.) 

PEGGY. 

He might kill himself in there. Girls, do you sup- 
[110] 



THE BURGLAR 

pose he has killed himself? Is that the reason he's 
so quiet? 

EDITH. 
Oh, dear! 

MABEL. 
Oh, Peggy ! 

VALERIE. 
Nonsense ! I don't believe he's in there at all ! 

FREDA. 

Well, he may be. It's better not to take any 
chances. Val, can you shoot? 

VALERIE (retreating). 
No ; at least — I haven't tried for years. 

FREDA. 

Edith? 

EDITH (shuddering). 
Oh, no ! 

FREDA (doubtfully), 
Mabel? 

MABEL. 
Mercy, no ! I never touched a gun ! 

FREDA. 

Then you'll have to do it, Val. You take the shot- 
gun — give it to her, Peggy — and sit by the win- 
dow. 

[HI] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 
PEGGY. 

Oh, it's not safe ! If he's out there, he might shoot 
her! 

FREDA. 

No, he won't! Now, you stand there (placing Val- 
erie beside a window), so that if he leaves Mabel's 
room by the window you can see him, and he can't 
see you from the garden. That's right. And if 
you see him, shoot! 

VALERIE (proffering the gun). 
Oh, Freda, you do it ! 

FREDA. 

Can't. I'm going to sit here and watch that door. 
I'm a pretty good shbt. That's the reason I gave 
you the gun. Bird-shot scatters. Now, the rest 
of you may as well go to bed. 

EDITH, MABEL, PEGGY. 
To bed! 

FREDA. 

Might as well. You can't do anything here. 

MABEL. 

Listen ! He moved then ! 

[112] 



THE BURGLAR 

VALERIE {turning toward theni). 
Nonsense! The floor creaks like that when there 
isn't a soul stirring! 

FREDA. 
Go back to your window. (Valerie turns back,) 

PEGGY. 

Oh, girls! Are you going to keep like this all 
night.? 

FREDA. 
All night- — unless he comes out. 

EDITH. 

Let's listen and see if we can hear him breathe ! 

VALERIE 

(turning toward them again). 
Well, how on earth do you expect to hear one man 
breathe when there are five women in the room, 
three of them literally panting with fright! 

FREDA (sternly). 
Val, your window ! 

VALERIE. 
Freda, do you honestly think there's any one in 
there.? 

FREDA. 

Well — probably not, but then • 

[113] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

VALERIE 

(decisiveli/, leaving the window arid putting aside 

her gun). 
Well, I'm not going to stand there all night strain- 
ing my eyes to see a man who probably escaped half 
an hour ago. 

MABEL {reproachfully). 
Oh,Val! 

EDITH. 
Oh, don't leave us unprotected ! 

PEGGY (indignantly). 
I think you might do what you can to help, Val ! 

FREDA. 

Well — will you go in and see if the room's empty.? 
(Edith, Mabel, and Peggy shudder.) 

VALERIE. 

N-no, I'd rather not do that. But Mabel can spend 
the rest of the night with me, in my room. 

MABEL. 

I shall spend the rest of the night right here ! 

PEGGY. 

And I! 

EDITH. 
And I! 

[114] 



THE BURGLAR 

VALERIE. 

That being the case, / shall go to bed ! 

FREDA. 

Well — see here, Val, perhaps you are right. I'm 
not afraid — much. I'll go in. 

PEGGY. 

Oh, no, Freda, don't! (All the girls, except Val- 
erie, cling protestingly to Freda.) 

FREDA. 

But somebody must take the revolver and be ready 
to shoot if he tries to run out. 

THE OTHERS 

{precipitately hacVmg away). 



FREDA (commandingly). 



Oh, no! 

Peggy ! 

PEGGY (reluctantly). 
Well, I do know how to shoot — a little. 

FREDA. 

Now, listen ! If the man tries to escape, shoot him ! 
(The girls moan,) Val, go back to your window. 
(Valerie obeys, talcing the shotgun with her.) 
Girls, I — I may be taking a desperate chance ! If 
you hear me scream, fire several shots out of the 
[115] 



^ 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

window for help, and then all come in to me to- 
gether. 

VALERIE. 
Why not fire out of the window for help anyway ? 

FREDA. 

Because we can't afford to waste our ammunition. 
We may need it. Here, Peggy. (She hands the 
revolver to Peggy, who handles it recMessly.) 
Here! Don't do that! It's loaded! Now! Ready.? 

EDITH. 

Oh, Freda, donH go in there ! 

MABEL. 

If anything happens to you, I'll never forgive my- 
self! 

PEGGY. 
Oh, Freda ! Please, please don't I 

FREDA {dodging). 
Peggy! Be careful with that revolver! Now! 
I'm going! {She goes cautiously into Mabel's 
room. ) 

^"^ Peggy mhimpers and aims the revolver wherever 
her glance happens to wander. Edith and 
Mabel, both sobbing, still have their agility 
[ 116 3 



THE BURGLAR 

somewhat taxed in their efforts to keep out of 
range of Peggy's revolver, and at the same 
timsjnot to turn their backs toward the dread- 
ed doorway. A little clatter is heard in Ma- 
bel's room, Mabel screams.) 

C^/^yJy^,^^ (wildhj). 

Shoot, Peggy! Shoot! 

VALERIE 

{springing toward Peggy). 
No! No! NO! She pushed back the curtain! 

PEGGY. 

Oh, that was it ! 

FREDA {in Mabel's room). 
Oh ! Why ! Here he is, girls ! 

(Mabel shrieks and covers her face. Edith, gasp- 
ing, leans against a table, imploringly waving 
her arms at Peggy, who snaps the revolver 
agavn and again, aiming it in any and all di- 
rections. ) 

VALERIE 
{snatching the revolver from Peggy and examin- 
ing it hurriedly). 
That thing's not loaded! {She tosses it aside, lifts 
the shotgun and snaps it twice before she drops it. ) 
Neither is that! Come, girls! {She starts toward 
[117] 



/f 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

Mabel's loom. Pauses suddenly, listening.) 
Why — she's laughing! 

PEGGY. 

Oh, she must have gone crazy ! 

MABEL {screaming). 
Oh, Freda ! Freda ! 

FREDA 

{in Mabel's room, laughing hysterically). 
Here he is! I've got him! {She appears in the 
doorivay, carrying a large Maltese cat.) Here's 
your burglar ! 



Curtain. 



[118] 



THE KLEPTOMANIAC 



ftO^^ 



THE KLEPTOMANIAC 

A Comedy in One Act 

CHARACTERS 
Mrs. John Burton {P^ggy)- 
Mrs. Valerie Chase Armsby, a young widow, 
Mrs. Charles Dover {Mabel), a bride, 
Mrs. Preston Ashley {Bertha). 
Miss Freda Dixon. 
Miss Evelyn Evans, a journalist. 
Katie, Mrs. Burton's maid. 



Mrs. Burton's boudoir is a rose-coloured apart- 
ment and is hung, strewn, and otherwise embel- 
lished with a thousand ornamental and more or less 
useless trifles bespeaking the superlative femininity 
of the occupant. A door on the right leads to the 
hall. Near the door is a divan, piled with soft cush- 
ions, and a tea-table, dressing-table, and desk are 
littered with shining appurtenances. A small table 
near the desk holds a desk telephone, telephone di- 
rectory, memorandum pad, etc. Several comforta- 
ble chairs are conveniently placed, and books, mag- 
azines, flowers, and other evidences of refinement 
and,culture may be observed. 

Peggy Burton, a tall, slender, delicately im- 
pulsive woman of twenty-five, whose fair hair is 
more than tinged with red, and whose skin is like a 
rose-leaf, sits at the telephone, holding the receiver 
to her ear. She still wears her hat and fur coat, 
holding her gloves in her hand, and the details of her 
toilet indicate to the feminine observer that im- 
portant matters are afoot. 

At the tea-table, her friend, Valerie Armsby, 
yellow-haired, brown-eyed, optimistic, calm, lounges 
in an easy-chair, lazily nibbling a biscuit and 

[121] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

'watching Peggy. Mrs. Armsby, also, is in street 
dress, 

PEGGY 
(in exasperated tone, speaking in 'phone). 
Hello ! . . . Hello, Central ! . . . Please give 
me Main 6373. . . . (Hangs up impatiently 
and drawls:) "Line busy; call again." (Rises and 
crosses to tea-table, where she sits to pour tea. ) 

VALERIE. 

Invariably! I never knew another such popular 
person as your husband seems to be. I have never 
yet been able to get him on the 'phone without wait- 
ing. What a mercy you're not jealous! 

PEGGY. 

I am — of his business. The woman never lived 
who could make Jack forget the office for an hour. 

VALERIE (lightly). 
Poor, dear Tom was just the other way. The 
business never existed that could make him forget 
for an hour the last pretty woman he had met. 
Heigh-ho ! 

PEGGY (frankly inquisitive). 
Were you jealous? 

VALERIE. 

I? (Laughs.) Not appreciably ! What's the use.^ 
[ 122 ] 



THE KLEPTOMANIAC 

Besides, Tom and I were not on the turtle-dove or- 
der, you know — like Charlie and Mabel, for in- 
stance. 

PEGGY (laughing). 
Aren't they funny! Have you heard Charlie talk 
about his "better half"? 

VALERIE. 

Half! She's not a quarter! She's about a tenth 
in their domestic economy — and a submerged tenth 
at that ! 

PEGGY 
(goes to the 'phone, still laughing, and tahes 

down the receiver). 
Main 6373, please. . . . Hello ! Is Mr. Burton 
there? . . . Yes, please. . . . Oh, hello. 
Jack. ... I called on Mrs. Howard, and she 
was out. . . . Yes. So I left a note asking 
them to dine with us informally to-night, at half 
after six. Is that right ? . . . Yes. Then you'll 
be home early? . . . Oh, all right. Good- 
bye. (Hangs up and returns to tea-table.) 

VALERIE (lazily). 
Who's Mrs. Howard? 

PEGGY 

(i/ndifferently, playing with a biscuit). 
Oh, I don't know. I've forgotten. She's the wife 
of one of tiack's innumerable clients. 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

VALERIE. 

Heavens ! Do you have to entertain all Jack's 
clients ? 

PEGGY (solemnly). 
Every one, my dear, especially if they come from 
the provinces. 

VALERIE. 
What on earth do you do with them ? 

PEGGY. 

Oh, if they have children, it's easy. I just ask how 
old the children are. They do the rest. Nothing 
entertains the average woman more than to talk as 
long as she likes about her offspring. 

VALERIE. 

And you.? 

PEGGY. 

^h — I look intelligent ; and at stated intervals I ask 
questions. I have a list of them somewhere. Did 
you have much trouble while they were teething? 
Have any of them any especial talent ? That one's 
good for at least three-quarters of an hour, with- 
out any further eflPort on my part. 

VALERIE {with amusement). 
And if they haven't children ? 
[124] 



THE KLEPTOMANIAC 

PEGGY. 

Then it's a case for ingenuity in finding out what 
they have. Sometimes it's a parrot ; sometimes it's 
cats. Somebody ought to write a book on the ad- 
ventures aod hair-breadth escapes of exploring 
hostesses seeking common ground. Sometimes 
they'll talk only about church affairs. I know all 
the details of all the church scandals in all the small 
towns within five hundred miles! Sometimes (with 
a grimace) they prefer to discuss literature. My 
dear, there are still people living who read "The 
Duchess" ! 

VALERIE. 
No! 

PEGGY. 
With these eyes I have seen them! I have com- 
pared notes with them. 

VALERIE. 

What a curious lot of clients Jack must have ! 

PEGGY. 

Oh, they're not all like that ! Bless you, no ! We 
had a man here last week who speaks all the lan- 
guages of Europe and three Chinese dialects. He 
makes geology his fad. He talked for two hours 
about moraines. Do you know what a moraine is.^* 
(Valerie shakes her head. ) Well, neither do I, but 
[ 125 ] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

it isn't his fault, poor man ! He took great pains 
with me. 

VALERIE (reproachfully). 

And you never told me about this ! Never asked me 
to meet any of these people — ^and yet, you claim to 
be my friend ! 

PEGGY. 
But I never know how it's going to turn out. Some- 
times they like to look at pictures — I find Mr. Pipp 
a very present help in time of trouble — and some- 
times they're fond of music. Then I play to them ! 
I can imagine you sitting in the corner wearing a 
rapt expression while I played "Rock of Ages" with 
varialfions, and "Monastery Bells." 

VALERIE. 

Well, I've wondered why you kept those things in 
your music-cabinet. 

PEGGY. 
That's the reason. 

VALERIE. 
Peggy, I've heard of various instances of uncom- 
plaining fortitude, but this is a kind that com- 
mands my unqualified admiration. 

PEGGY (brightly). 

Oh, don't misunderstand ! It pleases Jack, so I 

[ 126 ] 



THE KLEPTOMANIAC 

enjoy it; but I don't always remember all about 
who's coming, you know. But just think, Val! 
Jack says I'm the greatest help to him in his busi- 
ness ; so, of course, I like to do it. 

VALERIE. 

Naturally. Jack's glossary of the language of 
compliment can contain nothing stronger than that. 
What do you expect to-night .^^ 

PEGGY. 

I don't know. That's the worst of it, I never do 
know. But there's some sort of a big deal on, and 
it's ver}^ important that this particular client — this 
— Mr. — er — Otis Howard — should be conciliated. 
Do you want to stay and see how it's done ? 

VALERIE. 

I do. 

PEGGY {warningly). 
You may be bored. 

VALERIE. 

I'll take the chances. 

PEGGY. 

Very well {touches hell) ; on your own head be it. 

Enter Katie, a neat and youthful maid, of recent 

Hibernian extraction. 

[127] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

PEGGY. 
Mrs. Armsby will stay to dinner, Katie. 

KATIE. 

Be the other company comin', mum.'^ 

PEGGY. 

I don't know. I haven't heard, but I think so. 
They always do come. You may take the wraps, 
Katie. ( Valerie and Peggy remove their hats and 
coats and give them to Katie. Vai^erie goes to the 
dressing-table to arrange her hair.) Here are my 
gloves and — (looks about) — I wonder what I did 
with my purse? (Anxiously moves articles on the 
table. ) I certainly had it ! 

VALERIE (powdering her nose). 

Anything in it? (Katie lays the wraps on the 
divan and helps Peggy search.) 

PEGGY. 

About a hundred dollars and all my rings. 

VALERIE (turning suddenly). 
Good gracious, Peggy! Why do you carry that 
much money about with you? (Rises and joins 
in the hunt. ) 

[ 128 ] 



THE KLEPTOMANIAC 

PEGGY. 

Jack forgot to bring me my allowance yesterday, 
and I expected to pay some bills this afternoon, so 
I went to the office and got the money. What can 
have become of it? 

VALERIE 

(turning over the payers on the desk). 
Well, it's some comfort that the bills are paid ! 

PEGGY 

(huntmg among the cushions on the divan). 
They're not! I went to Ethel Farquhar's recital 
instead — at the Van Wyke, you know. I was there 
to call on this Mrs. — What's-her-name .f* — of Jack's, 
and happened to remember that it was the day of 
Ethel's affair, so I went in. {She turns her coat up- 
side down and shakes it vigorously, after hurriedly 
searching all the pockets. All three women move 
about constantly, looking in every possible and im- 
possible place for the purse.) 

VALERIE. 

When did you have it last.? 

PEGGY. 

I thought I had it when I came into the house. I 
must have had it, for my latch-key's in it. 
[129] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

VALERIE. 

But don't you remember? Katie let us in. 

PEGGY. 

Oh, so she did ! Well, on the car 



VALERIE. 

I paid the fare. 

PEGGY. 
That's so. 

VALERIE. 

Did you buy anything after you left the concert ? 

PEGGY. 

No, it was just over when I met you, and — I didn't 
use my purse at all after that, did I? 

VALERIE (decidedly/). 
Then you must have left it at the recital. We'll 
telephone down and see if it's been found. You're 
sure you had it when you went in ? 

PEGGY. 

Must have had it then. I bought my ticket at the 
door. 

VALERIE 
(searching for niimher in telephone directory). 
What sort of a purse was it ? 
[130] 



THE KLEPTOMANIAC 

PEGGY. 

Snakeskin, bound in silver, you know, with my mon- 
ogram on a little shield. (She .continues to over- 
turn everything in the room, ) 

. VALERIE. 

Oh, yes, I remember. (In 'phone.) Hello! . . . 
Main 325, please. . . . Hello. . . . Hello! 
. . . Is this the Van Wyke? . . . This is Mrs. 
Valerie Chase Armsby speaking. A purse contain- 
ing a large sum of money and — (to Peggy) rings, 
you ssiid? 

PEGGY (nodding). 
All my rings. They hurt my fingers under my 
gloves and I took them off. 

VALERIE (in 'phone). 
And a number of valuable rings, was lost during 
Miss Farquhar's recital. Do you know whether it 
has been found? ... It has not.'' . . . Oh, 
it's not been reported.'' . . . Will you make some 
inquiry about it, please? . . . Thank you. 
. . . What ? . . . Snakeskin, bound in silver, 
with a monogram, M. G. B., on a small silver shield. 
The purse belongs to Mrs. John Burton. . . . 
Yes. Thank you. . . . And will you telephone 
as soon as you find out, please? . . . What's 
your number, Peggy? 

[131] 



V 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

PEGGY. 

Blue 2801. 

VALERIE {in 'phone). 
Blue, two, eight, naught, one. . . . Eighty 
naught, one. . . . That's it. Thanks. {Hangs 
up receiver.) Why on eaith don't you pay your 
bills by check, Peggy? 

PEGGY. 

Oh, I don't know. It's so much trouble. {The 
door-hell is heard. Katie goes out. ) And then — 
I like to handle the money somehow. {Gazes re- 
proachfully at 'phone. ) Oh, why doesn't that Van 
Wyke man answer .f^ 

VALERIE. 

My dear girl! It takes half an hour to get a re- 
sponse to a card at the Van Wyke when you're on 
the spot. What can you expect when you tele- 
phone .? 

Enter Katie. 

KATIE. 

Miss Dixon. 

Enter Freda Dixon, a tall, brown-haired, breezy, 
self-reliant young woman of twenty-four, in 
street dress, wearing a fur coat similar to 
Peggy's. 

[ 132 ] 



THE KLEPTOMANIAC 

PEGGY 

{meetmg Freda with both hands extended). 
Oh, Freda, what do you think has happened? 

FREDA (nodding to Valerie). 
Couldn't imagine. What have you lost now.? 

PEGGY {resentfully). 
What makes you think I've lost anything ? 

FREDA {pulling off her gloves). 
That's the usual thing, isn't it ? You left your boa 
at Grace's tea, your best Sunday handkerchief at 
my luncheon, your umbrella on the train, and your 
purse under a pile of chiffons at Mayberry's, all 
within a week. What is it now.? 

PEGGY. 

Freda ! You needn't be disagreeable about it, any- 
way ! 

FREDA {breezily). 
I'm not disagreeable about it, my dear. Quite the 
contrary ! Your delightful inconsequence ( taking 
off her coat) is one of your most charming traits, 
and if you failed to telephone down to me to pick 
up your belongings after an affair at my house, 
I'd be as disappointed as if — as if the sun overslept 
and failed to get up on time ! 

(Katie 'picks up all the wraps and goes out.) 
[ 133 ] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

VALERIE. 

Much you know about whether the sun's up on time 
or not! 

FREDA 
(sitting at the dressing-table to arrange her hair). 
You see, you furnish entertainment and amusement 
for us. You're invaluable as a discourager of en- 
nui. (She turns toward Peggy, grandiloquently 
gesticulating with the hand-mirror. ) When every- 
thing else fails, when the fickle pleasures of society 
pall upon us, when friendship fails and love grows 
cold, when everything turns to ashes except the saw- 
dust stuffing of our dollies, and that leaks out and 
litters up the carpets, you come to the rescue! 
There's always something that you have lost, and 
in the search for your elusive possessions — the most 
fascinating pursuit known to man — the vanishing 
zest returns to us, and life seems again a golden 
bubble, created for our amusement. Why, Peggy 
dear (risings with a sudden return to her natural 
manner), you're a benefactor to the human race! 
No family should be without you. I suggest that 
you copyright yourself and charge a royalty for 
the privilege of joining in the chase of your wan- 
dering belongings. 

VALERIE (drily). 

Well, I suggest that you stem the torrent of your 

[134] 



THE KLEPTOMANIAC 

eloquence and get down on your knees and look un- 
der the divan for Peggy's purse. Anybody would 
know your father was a preacher! What a pity 
(laughing) that only his vocabulary descended to 
you! 

FREDA 

(obediently getting on her knees to look under the 

divan ) . 
Oh, it's the purse again, is it? Have you tried 
Mayberry's ? 

PEGGY. 
No, I haven't been there. You see, I went to Ethel 
Farquhar's recital at the Van Wyke, and — girls! 
I believe my pocket was picked ! 

FREDA (still on her knees). 
Anything in it except samples.? 

PEGGY. 

Yes, a hundred dollars and all my rings. 

FREDA 

(suddenly/ subsiding into a heap on the floor). 
Ye gods ! 

PEGGY (excitedly). 
And there was a woman sitting next me — a sort 
of elaborate person, you know — and when my coat 

fell down she picked it up 

[135] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

VALERIE. 

Fell down where? 

PEGGY. 

Slid off my lap, you know — she picked it up, and I 
noticed that she was very awkward about it — 
fussed and fumbled a whole lot, you know, but it 
never occurred to me that she was picking my 
pocket ! 

FREDA (joining Peggy and Valerie). 
What sort of a woman was she? 

PEGGY. 

She J^d^n an elegant brown tailor suit, made with 
a^even-gored skirt, and a jacket trimmed with ap- 
plique, opening over a cream-coloured wool waist ; a 
brown hat, trimmed with folds of panne velvet, 
with a very little gold on it, and brown gloves. Her 
hair was yellow. 

VALERIE. 
Plated? 

PEGGY. 
N-no, I rather think it was genuine. And she had 
a lovely complexion. 

FREDA. 

Doesn't sound bad. 

VALERIE. 

How old was she? 

[ 136 ] 



THE KLEPTOMANIAC 

PEGGY. 

Thirty-five, perhaps. 

VALERIE. 
TaU? 

PEGGY. 

Yes, and slender — a beautiful figure. 

FREDA. 

In fact, very attractive. 

PEGGY. 

Yes, she was attractive. I wondered who she was. 

VALERIE. 

Alone.? 

PEGGY. 

No, she had some one with her. They seemed, from 
their conversation, to be staying in the hotel. ( The 
telephone bell rings and Peggy goes to the * phone. ) 
Hello. . . .Yes. . . . Oh, the Van Wyke! 
Did you find it.? . . . {Anxious lines appear in 
her face.) Have you made a yerj careful search.? 
Oh, girls, they can't find it ! {She sinks hack in her 
chair and Valerie goes quickly to the ^ phone, tak- 
ing the receiver from Peggy's relaxed fingers.) 

VALERIE {in 'phone). 

You're certain it wasn't found.? . . . The em- 

[137] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

ployees are entirely trustworthy? . . . Yes. 
Thank you. Good-bye. {Hangs up.) Well, now 
what are we going to do.^^ 

PEGGY {tearfully). 
I wouldn't mind the money so much — though that's 
bad enough ! — but my rings ! My — my engage- 
ment ring, too! {Sobs.) How can I ever tell 
Jack ! 

FREDA {sittiiig at the tea-table). 
Oh, now don't give up, Peggy ! We've not ex- 
hausted "the bright lexicon of youth" yet. Have 
you looked in your coat.f^ 

PEGGY. 

Yes, in every pocket. I held it upside down and 
shook it! {The door-bell rings.) 

FREDA. 

And you haven't any pocket in your gown ? 

PEGGY {indignantly). 
Good gracious, no ! Do I look like a woman who'd 
wear a gown it was possible to put a pocket in^ 
{She weeps disconsolately, and the others look in all 
sorts of absurd places for the purse. ) 

FREDA. 

Well, suppose the woman did take it.^ What then.f^ 
[ 138 ] 



THE KLEPTOMANIAC 

VALERIE (uncertainly). 
I suppose we might trace her. Shall we report it 
to the police? 

Enter Katie. 

KATIE. 
Mrs. Dover. 

VALERIE. 
Here comes the submerged tenth ! 

Enter Mabel Doveu, a small, dark, smiling, impet- 
uous young woman, from whose modish rai- 
ment an occasional belated grain of rice still 
exudes. 

MABEL {radiantly). 

Oh, girls, how jolly to find you all here! Why, 

Peggy, what's the matter .^^ 

PEGGY 

{with a fresh hurst of tears), 
I — I've lost m-m-my rings ! 

MABEL. 

Your rings ! Were they stolen ? 

PEGGY. 

N-no — at least — I don't know. 

VALERIE. 

She put her rings in her purse 

[139] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

PEGGY. 

Be-because they hurt my fingers under my 

gloves 

FREDA. 
And then she lost her purse at Ethel's recital. 

PEGGY. 

That is, I think I lost it. 

FREDA. 

There was a woman sitting next her- 

PEGGY. 

A very queer sort of woman ! 

VALERIE. 

Who picked up her purse when she dropped it, and 

she thinks 

PEGGY. 
I'm sure she picked my pocket ! 

MABEL. 

How awful ! 

FREDA {doubtfully). 
She seems to have been a very well-dressed sort of 
woman. 

MABEL {shaking her head). 

Charlie says that sometimes the most desperate 

[ 140] 



THE KLEPTOMANIAC 

criminals are very well groomed — gamblers, and 
that sort of thing, you know. 

VALERIE ( thoughtfully ) . 
Yes, I suppose that's so. Perhaps we'd better re- 
port it to the police. 

MABEL. 
Charlie says that the police rarely accomplish much 
in matters of this sort. 

FREDA. 

Well, it's all we can do, it seems to me. 

MABEL. 

Charlie says that if we were robbed, he'd rather un- 
dertake the recovery of the things himself than 
trust to the police. They're so slow and so stupid ! 

VALERIE (with spirit). 
Well, Mabel, we can't very well start out in pur- 
suit of Peggy's purse, can we ? 

MABEL. 

N-no, I suppose not. But I'll tell Charlie to keep 
a sharp look-out in the shops — what is it they cal] 
them ? Hedges ? 

FREDA (concealing a smile). 
You mean fences. 

[141] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

MABEL. 

Yes, that's it ! Fences — ^and maybe he can identify 
Peggy's rings. (Peggy bursts into tears and drops 
into a chair. ) 

FREDA. 
Yes, but even Charlie would have difficulty in iden- 
tifying Peggy's money. 

MABEL. 

Money ! Was there money, too ? 

PEGGY. 

Y-y-yes, a — a hundred dollars ! 

MABEL. 

Why, Peggy Burton ! I never carry so much money 
about with me. Charlie says it's so foolish, for 
women are always losing things. 

PEGGY. 

I don't care so much about the money. I can make 
that up somehow; b-b-but my rings — o-o-oh, my 
rings ! 

FREDA {soothingly, joining her). 

Why, Peggy, dear. Jack would buy you a dozen 
rings rather than have you grieve over them this 
way. 

[142] 



THE KLEPTOMANIAC 

PEGGY {sobbing unrestrainedly). 
Y-yes, I know! That's the worst of it! But 
th-th-they'd never be those rings. I can never have 
another enga-a-agement ring ! And how — how can 
I tell Jack ! 

FREDA. 
If we succeed in finding the purse, there will be no 
necessity of bothering Jack about it at all. 

PEGGY (a little more hopefully). 
Yes, that's so. 

MABEL (disapprovingly). 
Why, Peggy ! Would you have secrets from Jack.^* 
Charlie says that a woman's first secret from her 
husband is her first step toward unfaithfulness. 

VALERIE. 

Ergo, every time the laundry fails to send home a 
sheet, hubby must hear of it! I suppose he says, 
also, that a considerate husband never distresses his 
wife with the troubles incident to a man's large 
affairs ? 

MABEL (innocently). 
Why, yes ! How did you know ? 

VALERIE (drily). 
Oh, I'm psychic, and — I just know things. Be- 
sides, I had a husband once. 
[143] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

MABEL. 

Was he like that? 

VALERIE. 

Yes — in the early stages. 

MABEL (hesitatingly). 
Do — do you mean that he — changed.'^ 

VALERIE. 

Well, he progressed ; graduated, as it were. 

MABEL. 

You mean that he got so he didn't — care? 

VALERIE. 

About the sheets ? Not in the least ! But he cared 
very much not to be bothered. 

MABEL {sympathetically). 
Poor Val ! It must be so hard when it's like that ! 
Now, Charlie says that it's the sharing of all the 
dear little details that makes married life so sweet. 

VALERIE. 

That is, all your dear little details. Of course, his 

are — are 

MABEL {eagerly). 
Yes, that's it! His are — are — well, you know, a 

man's business is — is 

[ 144 ] 



THE KLEPTOMANIAC 

VALERIE {lightly). 

Oh, well, Charlie's in the primary department. 
There are several grades ahead of him yet. 

MABEL {earnestly). 

Oh, no, you don't understand, Val! Charlie will 
never change. 

FREDA. 
Well, I don't see that Charlie's constancy is going 
to help us find Peggy's purse. The question before 
the house is, what next ? 

MABEL. 

Don't you think we'd better tell Jack, Peggy ^ 

FREDA. 

Not until we've exhausted our own resources. 
That's the trouble with women. They're always 
flying to a man for relief, without testing their own 
powers at all. I think we'd better notify the police. 

VALERIE. 

Consistent Freda.? She wouldn't fly to a man for 
relief ! 

FREDA. 

My dear girl, the Police Department is not a man ; 

it's an institution, and one of our legitimate re- 

[145] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

sources. I'm going to call them up. (She goes to 
the telephone and takes up the directory.) 

PEGGY (with a fresh outburst of sobs). 
Oh, no, no, no ! Don't, Freda ! Don't ! 

VALERIE, FREDA, MABEL. 

Why not.? 

VALERIE. 

Don't you want them notified, Peggy.? 

PEGGY. 

Oh, no ! It seems so — so public, you know ! 

FREDA 

(hunting in the directory for a number). 
But if the woman stole your purse 

VALERIE. 

And your money 

FREDA. 

And your rings 

PEGGY. 

Oh — well — go on! (Dolefully.) I suppose it's 
the only way, but (shuddering) — it seems horrible! 
(Mabel dubiously shakes her head.) 
[146] 



THE KLEPTOMANIAC 

FREDA 

(rimning her finger down the page). 
C, e, . . . c, i, . . . c, h, — here it is! 
{In 'phone.) Main 65, please. . . . Yes. 
. . . Hello. Is that the Chief of Police.? 
. . . I want to report the loss of a purse belong- 
ing to Mrs. John Burton at Miss Farquhar's recital 
at the Van Wyke this afternoon. . . . We have 
made inquiries, and it has not been found. . . 
A very suspicious-looking woman sat next Mrs. 
Burton, and we think she may have picked the pock- 
et of Mrs. Burton's coat. . . . No, this is Miss 
Freda Dixon speaking. . . . Yes. . . . Very 
well. Peggy, he wants to talk to you. 

PEGGY 

(backing away to the opposite side of the room). 
Oh, no ! I can't talk to him ! 

VALERIE. 

Nonsense, Peggy ! Don't be a goose ! He's only a 
man, and he's two miles away ! ( Peggy is pushed 
to the * phone t where she reluctantly takes the re- 
ceiver. ) 

PEGGY (timidly, in 'phone). 
Hello. . . . Hello (sob.) . . . Hello! 
. . . Hello! . . . Yes! . . . (sob.) 
This is Mrs. Burton. . . . Yes. . . . No, 
but I think she was staying at the Van Wyke. 
[147] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

Well, I dropped my coat, you know, 
and she picked it up, and she was very 
slow and awkward about it, but it didn't occur 
to me, at the time, that she was picking my 
pocket. . . . Yes, a hundred dollars and all 
my rings {sob), and one of them w-w-was my en- 
ga-agement ring. (Freda makes a restraining 
gesture. ) . . . Five. I took them off and put 
them in my purse, you know, because — what.? 
. . . Snakeskin, bound in silver, with my mono- 
gram, M. G. B., on a small silver shield. . . . 
Well, she was a very queer-looking person. . . . 
Very elaborately dressed. . . . She had oi^ a 
brown tailor gown {rapidly), made with a iseven- 
gored skirt, and a jacket with applique trimmings, 
opening over a vest of — what ? . . . Well, but I 
want to tell you how she was dressed. . . . Brown 
suit, yes. . . . What? . . . Yes, a brown 
hat, trimmed with folds of panne velvet and a gold 
— what.f^ . . . Blond. Her hair was quite yel- 
low. {She continues nodding and replying to ques- 
tions over the * phone. ) 



MABEL 

{complacently patting her own dark locks). 

Charlie says he never quite trusts a woman with yel- 
low hair. 

[ 148 ] 



THE KLEPTOMANIAC 

VALERIE (the golden-haired). 
Really? 

MABEL. 

Oh, I heg your pardon, Val! I didn't think! Of 
course, Charlie didn't mean — that is, he wouldn't 
think of saying anything like that about any one 
he knew, you know ! 

VALERIE ( good-naturedly ) . 
Oh, we all know that Charlie's never looked at any 
one of us long enough to know what colour our hair 
is. (Mabel smiles complacently.) 

PEGGY (in 'phone). 
And if you find her — oh, you won't arrest her, will 
you.? 

FREDA. 
Why, you goose, of course they'll arrest her ! 

PEGGY (in 'phone). 

Oh, no, I— I 

FREDA. 

You want your rings, don't you, Peggy? 

PEGGY (in 'phone). 
I just want my rings, you know. 

VALERIE. 

Don't you want your money? 
[ 149 ] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

PEGGY (in 'phone). 
And my money. 

FREDA. 

Peggy, don't you interfere with the PoKce Depart- 
ment. You let them go ahead their own way. 

PEGGY (to her). 
But it's so awful! Think of being arrested! (In 
'phone.) What? . . . Oh, well — very well. I 
(sob) — I must have my rings. You'll get my en- 
gagement ring for me, anyway, won't you ? . . . 
Yes. Good-bye. (Hangs up slowly.) Oh, girls, 
isn't this awful ! 

VALERIE 

(jommg Peggy at 'phone). 
Now, I think we ought to tell the hotel people 
about it. 

MABEL (across the room). 
Well, / think you ought to tell your husband! 

PEGGY 

(doubtfully, to Valerie, ignoring Mabel). 
Oh, do you? 

VALERIE. 
Yes, for if they have a pickpocket among their 
guests, they ought to know it. 

FREDA. 

That's so. 

[ 150 ] 



THE KLEPTOMANIAC 
PEGGY. 

Yes, I suppose that is so. 

FREDA (significantly). 
You tell them, then, Val. 

PEGGY (quickly). 

No, I'll tell them. (Valerie and Freda exchange 
glances of amused exasperation. Peggy takes re- 
ceiver.) Main 325, please. . . . Hello. Van 
Wyke? 

VALERIE. 
Ask for Mr. Collins, the clerk. 

PEGGY. 

I'd like to speak to Mr. Collins, please. . . . Hel- 
lo. Mr. Collins.? . . . This is Mrs. John Burton 
speaking. I — I have very unpleasant news for you, 
Mr. Collins. 

FREDA. 

Oh, good gracious, Peggy, don't try to break it to 
him gently ! 

(During the ensuing speech Freda and Valerie, 
by frowns and smiles and little quick, impa- 
tient gestures, indicate their mingled amuse- 
ment and irritation.) 

[ 151 ] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

PEGGY (in 'phone). 
My pocket was picked at Miss Farquhar's recital 
this afternoon, and I lost my purse and a hundred 
dollars and all my rings. One of them was my en- 
gagement ring, you know. I took them off and put 
them in my purse because — what.^^ . . . Thank 
you. But that's not all. It was done by a woman 
who is staying in the hotel. . . . Yes. She sat 
next me, and picked up my coat when I dropped it, 
you know, and she was very slow and awkward about 
it (with mechanical rapidity), but it didn't occur 
to me at the time that she was picking my pocket. 
. . . Yes, I'm quite sure, for she said something 
to her friend about going up to her room before they 
went out. . . . No (impatiently), I don't know 
who she was, of course, but she wore a brown tailor 
suit, made with a .sexen-gorei skirt, and a jack- 
et with applique trimmings, opening over a — 
what ? . . . She was tall and slender, with yellow 
hair — suspiciously yellow hair ! — and she wore a 
brown hat trimmed with folds of panne vel — 
— what? . . . Oh, I assure you there can be 
no mistake. I have looked everywhere for the 
purse and it's not to be found. I haven't had it 
since I left the recital hall. (To the girls.) The 
idea ! As if I'd take all this trouble unless I knew ! 
(In 'phone, with dignity.) And I hope you'll take 
steps to recover my property for me, Mr. Collins. 
[152] 



THE KLEPTOMANIAC 

STes. Thank you. I thought you'd be glad 
t^ kno\^, for the protection of your other guests, 
tiat yoli had a desperate character in the house. 
. . . Yes. Good-bye. {Hangs up.) He says 
he?ll m«(ke some inquiries and find out .whether any 
one answ^ering that description is staying there. 

Enter Katie. 

KATIE. 

There's a lady below, Mrs. Burton, sayin' she's a 
d& e wid ye. Miss Evans, she is. 

PEGGY. 

Miss Evans ? Miss Evans ! 

FREDA. 

Oh, she's the reporter for the Top Crest, don't 
you remember? You promised to tell her about 
the favours and things for the cotillion to-morrow 
night. 

PEGGY. 

Oh, so I did ! What shall I do .? 

VALERIE. 

Let her come up. We'll all tell her, and it will kill 
time until we hear something about the purse. 
[153] 




COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

PEGGY. 

Bring Miss Evans up here, Katie. (Exit Katie.) 

PEGGY. 

Oh, girls, do you suppose that horrid policeii|an will 
find my rings.? 

MABEL. j 

Charlie says he never knew a policeman to find any- 
thing he was looking for, or to be anywhere he was 
wanted. 

PEGGY. 
How soon do you think we might hear.? 

FREDA. 

Oh, it may be several hours. 

PEGGY. 
Hours! Why, Jack will be home — what time is it? 
— Jack may be home any minute now, and — oh, 
dear, girls, how can I ever face him.f^ Oh, I can't 
wait hours! I'll just call up that Chief of Police 
and tell him he must find that purse within half an 
hour, or I'll 

Enter Miss Evans, a small, brisk, inquisitive per- 
son, behind whose round black eyes a pano- 
ramic lens is in constant operation. 
[154] 



THE KLEPTOMANIAC 

PEGGY (vaguely/). 
Oh, how do you do, Miss Evans? Miss Evans (in- 
troducing), Mrs. Armsby, Mrs. Dover, Miss Dixon. 

Enter Katie, with a note. 

KATIE. 

Here's a note that's just come for ye, mum. A boy 
from the Van Wyke brought it. (Hands note to 
Peggy and goes out.) 

PEGGY, VALERIE, FREDA, MABEL. 

From the Van Wyke ! 

PEGGY. 

Oh, girls, do you suppose they've found it.^* 

(The girls all crowd together, looking at the note 
over Peggy's shoulder, leaving Miss Evans a 
keen and unnoticed observer of the scene.) 

MABEL. 

Perhaps they want you to come down there and 
identify the woman. 

PEGGY. 
Oh, I couldn't! Oh, girls, do you suppose they'll 
make me do that.'' 

VALERIE. 
Perhaps it's only the purse they want you to iden- 
tify. 

[155] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

PEGGY (reading). 

"My dear Mrs. Burton: I am very sorry to have 

missed " what under the sun! (She glances at 

the signature. ) "EKzabeth Deane Howard !" Oh, 
it isn't from the hotel people at all! It's from 
Jack's woman! 

MABEL. 
Jack's woman! 

VALERIE. 

Mrs. Otis Howard ! 

PEGGY. 

And I was so happy. I was so sure it had been 

found! (She plaintively wipes her eyes.) 

VALERIE. 

What does she say? 

PEGGY. 
Oh, I don't know ! Read it. 

VALERIE 

(glancing over the letter). 
Sorry to have missed your call. So kind of you to 
ask them to dinner. Accept with pleasure (Peggy 
groans ) . And as the men are coming directly from 
the office, she will adopt Mr. Burton's suggestion 
and come rather early, and — she's yours very cor- 
dially. 

[156] 



THE KLEPTOMANIAC 

PEGGY. 

Oh, how can I talk to stupid old clients when I'm 
in such trouble ! 

MISS EVANS (to Valerie). 
Mrs. Burton has met with a loss ? 

PEGGY (sobbing). 
Oh, yes, a great loss! (Freda frowns warningly 
at her.) My pocket was picked this afternoon at 
Miss Farquhar's recital, and she took my purse and 
my money and all my rings. 

MISS EVANS. 
Your rings ! 

PEGGY. 
Yes, I took them off, you know, because they hurt 
my fingers under my gloves, and put them in my 
purse. And one of them was my engagement ring ! 
(She weeps.) 

MISS EVANS. 
Has she any idea who took \t? 

FREDA (evasively). 
Well, one never can be sure, you know. 

MABEL (eagerly). 
Oh, yes, there was a dreadful woman sitting next 

her 

[157] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

PEGGY. 

And she picked up my coat when I dropped it 

( Feeda tries hy frowns and signals to stop them. ) 

VALERIE. 

And of course it's quite possible that she 



MISS EVANS. 
What sort of a woman was she.f^ 

MABEL. 

Oh, a very showy sort of woman 

PEGGY. 

With yellow hair 

VALERIE. 

And a brown suit 

PEGGY. 

Made with a seven-gored skirt 

MABEL. 

And a jacket trimmed with applique — 

PEGGY. 

Opening over a vest of cream-coloured- 
MABEL. 

And a brown hat 

[158] 



THE KLEPTOMAISIAC 

PEGGY. 

Trimmed with folds of panne velvet 



FREDA (with decision). 
Miss Evans is a very busy woman, girls, and she 
came up here to learn about the cotillion. 

MISS EVANS. 

Oh, I assure you, I'm very much interested. And 
she sat next you, you say ? 

PEGGY. 

And she's evidently a guest in the hotel, be- 
cause 

MABEL. 
And we've notified the hotel people to keep an eye 

on her 

VALERIE. 
Because, you know she might make them a great 
deal of trouble. 

PEGGY. 
And the police are looking for her; and oh. Miss 
Evans, do you think they'll find my rings ? 

MISS EVANS. 
I think it's very likely. 

MABEL. 

Charlie — my husband — says that the police are 
[159] 



• 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

very slow and stupid, and that unless one has what 
he calls a "pull"— 

PEGGY. 

Oh, I wish I had a pull ! Miss Evans, do you know 
any one who has a pull? 

MISS EVANS. 
Sometimes we newspaper people are able to accom- 
plish things that baffle the police, Mrs. Burton. 
I'll see what I can do for you. 

PEGGY. 

Will you "^ Oh, thank you. Miss Evans ! 

FREDA 

{stepping between Peggy and the reporter, with an 

authoritative manner). 
I don't think we need to trouble Miss Evans, Peg- 
gy. She is, as I have said, a very busy woman, and 
we ought not to ask her to go outside the line of her 
regular duties; and, of course {significantly), this 
matter can be of no possible use to Miss Evans pro- 
fessionally. (Miss Evans puts the suggestion 
aside with a gesture.) 

PEGGY. 

Well, I'm sure, Freda, it's very kind of Miss Evans 

to offer to help me. If you'd lost your rings — 

[160] 



THE KLEPTOMANIAC 

only you haven't an engagement ring — you'd ap- 
preciate people who really offered to do something, 
instead of just standing around waiting! 

FREDA (calmly). 

And in the meantime Miss Evans is standing around 
waiting to see the cotillion favours. 

PEGGY. 

Oh, that's true. They're in the chiffonier in the 
guest-room. We'll go and see them. Will you 
come this way. Miss Evans ? 

(Exeunt all except Mabel, who lingers. When the 
others are gone, she hurries to the telephone, 
radiant with anticipatory smiles.) 

MABEL (in 'phone). 

Main 781. . . . Hello. That you, dearest.? 
. . . Oh, I heg your pardon ! Is my husband 
there.? . . . Mrs. Dover, yes. . . . Thank 
you. . . . Oh, hello, darling. How do you feel, 
dear.? . . . That's good. . . . Yes, I'm all 
right, only we're in such a lot of trouble. . . . 
What.? . . . Oh, no, Peggy, I mean. . . . 
Yes, I'm at Peggy's, and oh, Charlie, dear, such 
a dreadful thing has happened! . . . Well 
[161] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

(settling herself for a long talk), Peggy went 
to Ethel Farquhar's recital at the Van Wyke this 
afternoon, and a dreadful woman who sat next her 
stole her pocketbook and all her rings, and, oh, 
Charlie, one of them was her engagement ring! 
And there was a hundred dollars in her purse! 
.' . . That's who-t I told her. So foolish ! And 
poor Peggy has been crying all the afternoon, and 
she's going to have company to dinner, and oh, it's 
awful ! . . . Why, she dropped her coat and the 
woman picked it up for her, and she knows she must 
have taken it, for she hasn't had it since, and it was 
in her coat-pocket. Besides, the woman was a horrid 
sort of person, with bleached hair, you know, and 
all that. And, oh, Charlie, dear, can't you do 
something.'* . . . Peggy doesn't want to tell 
Jack. ... I know. We wouldn't feel that way 
about it, would we, darling .^^ Your wifie would go 
to you first, wouldn't she ? . . . Well, you might 
go to the hotel and see if you can find the woman. 
She's staying at the Van Wyke. . . . Peggy 
heard her say so. . . . They've notified the 
^police. . . . Yes, I told them you said that, 
but they went right ahead, just the same. And 
the clerk of the hotel has been told. But I 
want you to go right up to the Van Wyke and find 
out who this woman is, and see her yourself. I know 
i/our can make her give up the purse and the rings 
[162] 



THE KLEPTOMANIAC 

and things, and poor Peggy's so unhappy about it. 
. . . What ? . . . Well, she's tall and slender, 
and wears a brown tailor suit, made with a — what? 
. . . Oh, all right. . . . Ready? . . . 
Tall and slender — got that ? . . . And 
bleached hair. . . . Ai^ she wears a brown 
tailor suit, made with a seven-gored skirt. . . . 
What? ... A seven-gored skirt. . . 
Yes ; and a j acket trimmed with appliqu^ . . . 
Applique . . . A, p, p, 1, i, q, u, e. .' . . 
Oh, it's trimming, cut out and then sewed on, you 
know. . . . No, not ruffled. Sewed on flat 
— a sort of passementerie. You know what pas- 
sementerie is, don't you, dear? . . . Oh, well, 
never mind. It's trimmed, you know, not plain 
like mine. . . . And a brown hat — got that? 
. . . Trimmed with folds of panne velvet. . . . 
Panne. . . . P, a, double n, e. . . . Why, 
it's — it's — oh, never mind ! Just put down a brown 
hat. And when you find her, you'll just talk to her, 
won't you, dear ? . . . Oh, thank you so much ! I 
won't tell Peggy that I asked you. I'll let you sur- 
prise her ! She'll be so happy ! . . . Oh, you 
dear! I'm always happy since I have you ! . • . . 
Yes. Good-bye, dear. — Oh, Charlie ! ... Be 
home pretty soon? . . . Oh, of course! Well, 
as soon as you get the rings and things you'll 
'phone me, won't you ? . . , No, Peggy's going 
[163] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

to have guests for dinner, so I won't stay here 

and wait for you. . . . Yes. Good-bye, dar- 

Hng ! There! 

{Hangs up, sighing contentedly^, rises and goes to 
dressing-table, as Peggy, Miss Evans, Freda, 
and Valerie enter, all talking at once,) 

PEGGY. 

Yes, they're quite the prettiest favours of the sea- 
son. 

VALERIE. 
Oh, Mabel, why didn't you come.? 

MISS EVANS 
(glancing at her notes). 
Thank you very much, Mrs. Burton. I think I 
have everything now. 

Enter Katie with a card, which she gives to Peggy. 

PEGGY {in tones of apprehension). 
Mrs. Preston Ashley! {Turns to Mabel.) 

VALERIE. 

Good gracious! (Miss Evans grows more alert.) 

FREDA {distinctly). 
Yes, I think that's everything. Miss Evans. Sorry 
we detained you so long. Good afternoon. Miss 
Evans is going, Peggy. 

[164] 



THE KLEPTOMANIAC 

PEGGY 

(perfunctorily, in the midst of an excited confer- 
ence with Mabel). 
Oh, good afternoon, Miss Evans. 

(Miss Evans, having no recourse, makes reluctant 
adieux and departs, followed hy Katie.) 

PEGGY. 

What on earth shall I do? Anybody can see that 
I've been crying! 

FREDA. 
Send down word you're not at home. 

PEGGY. 

I don't dare. She'll see Miss Evans going out, and 
she'd never forgive me. 

VALERIE. 

Then have her come up here. We'll do what we can 
to protect you. 

Enter Katie. 

PEGGY. 

Well — ^bring her up here, Katie. {Exit Katie.) 

FREDA. 

Now, listen to me, girls. Not one word of this 
[ 165 ] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

business to Bertha Ashley. She'd spread it broad- 
cast. 

VALERIE. 
Heavens, no ! Not a whisper ! 

FREDA. 

Though it doesn't make much difference who 
knows it, now that Evelyn Evans has her talons 
in it. 

PEGGY. 
I think you were horrid to Miss Evans, Freda. She 
was so kind about offering to find my rings ! 

FREDA. 

I wonder how you'll like it when the whole story ap- 
pears in the Top Crest, with your picture, and 
the woman's — if they find her — and all our names, 
and everything .f^ 

PEGGY. 
Oh, she wouldn't publish it ! 

FREDA. 

Oh, wouldn't she ! This is just to her taste ! Don't 
you know about her ? She's the woman who wormed 
the whole story of the Custis boys' quarrel out of 
Johnny Custis's wife, in confidence, and then wrote 
it up, with embellishments, for the Top Crest. 
{Chorus of ejaculations.) She's the woman who 
[166] 



THE KLEPTOMANIAC 

furnished the first report of the Eaton scandal, 
and started all that horrid notoriety for Marian 
Doubleday. 

VALERIE. 
How do you know? 

FREDA. 
My cousin, Harry Summers, is a newspaper man, 
and they all know who did it. 

PEGGY {indignantly). 
Well, why didn't you tell me .? 

FREDA {with spirit). 
Well! I did what I could, didn't I? You wouldn't 
take a hint, and I couldn't mahe you stop. It's 
your affair, not mine, and if you choose to publish 
it through the medium of the Top Crest, you have 
the privilege. 

VALERIE {easily). 
Oh, I don't believe she'll use it, anyway. She can't 
afford to incur our displeasure. 

FREDA. 

A lot she'd care for our displeasure if she got a 
good story out of it ! ( Peggy begins to whimper 
again. ) 

Enter Bertha Ashley, a tall, thin-lipped woman, 
[167] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

who, by tone, hearing, and costume, seeks to 
give the impression that she moves in exclusive 
circles. 

VALERIE 
(intercepting her near the door). 
Oh, how do you do, Bertha ? Such a long time since 
I've seen you ! 

BERTHA 
Yes, isn't it? (Shakes hands and passes on. Val- 
erie signs to Mabel to make talk.) 

FREDA 

(^stopping Bertha at the tea-table). 
Why, Bertha, how did you happen to come, too? 
Did you suspect a gathering of the clans? 

BERTHA 

{coolly, stepping past her toward Peggy). 
Ah, Freda, you, too ? 

MABEL {joining Bertha). 
Oh, Bertha, I want to tell you! Charlie saw you 
on the train the other day, and he said 

BERTHA 

{passing her and looking shrewdly at Peggy). 
Well, Peggy, how did you enjoy the recital? 

PEGGY {whose lips still quiver). 

Oh, were you there ? I — I 

[168] 



THE KLEPTOMANIAC 

FREDA . 

(slipping between Bertha and Peggy). 
Oh, yes, she enjoyed it immensely ! She's just been 
teUing us about it. 

BERTHA {with a sharp glance). 
You look as if it had affected your emotions. 

PEGGY. 
Oh, no, I— I 

VALERIE {pouring tea). 
Do sit down. Bertha ! Doesn't Ethel's voice always 
affect you? It has a pathetic quality that never 
fails to bring tears to my eyes. 

BERTHA {sitting at tea-table). 
H'm. Perhaps. I'm not especially sensitive to 
that sort of thing. 

VALERIE. 

Do have some tea, Bertha. 

BERTHA. 

No, thanks. You were in very distinguished com- 
pany, Peggy. (Freda and Valerie offer her bis- 
cuits and sweets, which she waves away.) 
[ 169 ] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

PEGGY. 

I was? 

BERTHA (pulling off her gloves). 
Yes, weren't you with Mrs. Howard.'^ 

PEGGY. 

Mrs. Howard! 

BERTHA. 
Yes, Mrs. Otis Howard, you know. Is it possible 
you didn't know that the woman who sat next 
you was Mrs. Otis Howard.? 

PEGGY, VALERIE, FREDA, MABEL. 

Mrs. Otis Howard! 

BERTHA. 
Yes, didn't you notice her.^^ She wore a brown 

tailor suit 

^^ ^ PEGGY. 
With a S€V8n-gored skirt 

FREDA. 

And a jacket trimmed with applique 

MABEL. 

Opening over a vest of 

VALERIE. 

And a brown hat 

[ no ] 



THE KLEPTOMANIAC 
PEGGY. 

Trimmed with folds of panne 

VALERIE. 

And she's tall 

MABEL. 
And slender 

PEGGY. 
And has yellow hair 

BERTHA. 

Well, you all seem to know all about her! 

PEGGY. 
Was that Mrs. Otis Howard? 

BERTHA (rising). 
That was Mrs. Otis Howard. 

PEGGY (wildly). 

And she's the wife of Jack's client! And she's 
coming here to dinner! And — oh, girls (wailing), nJ^ 
what have I done! (She drops into a chair weep- 
ing aloud.) 

BERTHA. 

Why, what's the matter? (Freda goes to Peggy 
and vigorously remonstrates with her.) 
[171] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

VALERIE 

(stepping between Bertha and Peggy, talking 

rapidly and impressively^). 
Why, you see, this Mrs. Howard is the wife of a 
very important client of Jack's, and Peggy called 
on her to-day and she was out. Peggy wants to 
show this Mrs. Howard every possible courtesy, you 
know, and she didn't recognise her — how could she, 
you know, when she hadn't met her.^* — and — and 

BERTHA. 

Well, I don't see anything to cry about. 

PEGGY. 

Oh, you don't know! You don't know! I've 

lost 

FREDA 

(giving Peggy a little restraining shake). 
Peggy's lost — has lost — her kitten! Viking, you 
know. He strayed away 

PEGGY (moaning). 
I'm sure she stole it ! 

FREDA. 
Or been stolen — and she's quite broken-hearted 
about it, as you can see. We've been trying to com- 
fort her and tell her that he may be found again, or 
come back — cats always do come back, don't they ? 
[ 172 ] 



THE KLEPTOMANIAC 

PEGGY (sobbing). 
And to think that it was Mrs. Howgtrd, of all 
people ! 

MABEL. 
How do you know it was Mrs. Howard, Bertha.? 

BERTHA. 

Why, I know all about her. She was one of the 
Philadelphia Deanes, you know, and she was en- 
gaged to Count *Angellotti, but it was broken off 
very suddenly. Then about four years ago she 
married Otis Howard. He's a cousin of the Van 
Vliets, you know — the New York Van Vliets — and 
they have the loveliest place in Willowdale! We 
spent the summer there once, and I met her at a 
luncheon at Mrs. Bolton's — Mrs. Sumner Bolton's, 
you know. She was a Felton. 

FREDA. 

Tell me about this Mrs. Howard, Bertha. Is she- 
peculiar in any way.? 

BERTHA. 

Why, no! Why should she he? Only she's very 
smart, you know; exclusive and all that. (Peggy 
groans. Freda motions to Mabel to take Bertha 
away.) It's considered a great distinction in Wil- 
lowdale to be invited to her house. And she's com- 
ing here to dinner, you say ? 
[173] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

MABEL. 

Yes, and we must go and give Peggy a chance to 
dress. Come on, Bertha. Good-bye, Peggy. 
Don't worry about Viking. Come, Bertha. 

BERTHA. 

Aren't the rest coming ? 

FREDA. 

Oh, yes, we'll catch you before you get to the cor- 
ner. 

BERTHA. 

I was sure I saw you talking to her, Peggy. She 
certainly smiled and nodded at you. 

PEGGY. 

I dropped my coat and she picked it up for me, 
and I thought 

FREDA (hurriedly). 
It is customary to thank people for courtesies of 
that sort, Bertha, even if one isn't aware of their 
exalted social position. 

BERTHA. 
How long is Mrs. Howard going to stay, Peggy .^^ 
[174] 



THE KLEPTOMANIAC 

VALERIE. 

She doesn't know. She hasn't seen her yet, you 
know. 

BERTHA. 

Are you going to give a luncheon or anything for 
her? 

FREDA 
(^handing Bertha her gloves). 
How can she tell, when she doesn't know how long 
she's going to stay ? 

BERTHA. 
Well, if I can help you any, you'll be sure to let 
me know, won't you, dear? You may have any of 
my things, you know. 

MABEL. 
Oh, come on, Bertha ! 

VALERIE and FREDA. 
Good-bye, Bertha! Good-bye! {Exeunt Bertha 
and Mabel, Freda hurrying them out.) 

FREDA 

(turnmg back with a grimace). 
That woman would beg for an invitation to meet 
the devil, if she thought he was in any way connect- 
ed with the Knickerbocker aristocracy ! Well, what 
now? Who is this Mrs. Howard, anyway? 
[ 1*75 ] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

PEGGY 

{spri/nging up and pacing the floor). 
She's the wife of a client of Jack's. 

VALERIE (drily). 
And it's most important that she should be concil- 
iated ! 

PEGGY. 
Oh, what shall I do ! What will Jack say ? There's 
some sort of a big deal on, and it means thousands 
of dollars to him 

FREDA. 

For heaven's sake! (Runs to 'phone and seizes di- 
rectory. ) 

VALERIE. 
What are you going to do, Freda.? 

FREDA. 

Stop the police. 

PEGGY. 
Oh, can you, Freda? Can you stop them? 

FREDA. 

Well, I can try. 

VALERIE. 
It's quite possible, I suppose, that the woman's a 
kleptomaniac. 

[176] 



THE KLEPTOMANIAC 

PEGGY 

(ftngermg the silver on the tea-table), 
Mercy ! And she's coming here to dinner ! 

FREDA. 

I wonder if she is ? 

PEGGY. 
Eh? 

FREDA. 

Coming to dinner? I wonder if the police have 
found her yet ? 

PEGGY. 
Oh, dear ! Hurry, Freda ! Hurry ! 

FREDA. 

Here it is! (In ^ phone.) Main 65, please. . • . 
iSi^ five. (Hangs up.) Line busy. 

PEGGY. 

Oh, dear! Oh, Freda, what shall I do? If I've 
spoiled Jack's arrangements 

VALERIE. 

Oh, well, if she's a sensible woman, she'll see how it 
might have happened to any one. You can ex- 
plain 

[ 177 ] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

FREDA (drily). 
Explaining to the satisfaction of a very proud and 
exclusive woman how one came to take her for a 
thief and put the police upon her track is not the 
simplest thing in life, Val! And as for her hus- 
band (Shrugs her shoulders.) 

PEGGY (sobbing). 
Oh, dear! 

FREDA (m 'phone). 
Main six five, please. . . . (Hangs up.) Still 
busy. 

VALERIE. 
Try the hotel. 

FREDA. 

Three two five, isn't it? (Valerie nods.) Main 

three two five, please. . . . Hello. Is that the 

,.., W VanWyke? . . . TheVanWyke. . . . What 

x\^ number is that? . . . Oh, I beg pardon! They 

gave me the wrong number. . . . (Hangs up.) 

PEGGY. 

Oh, dear! 

FREDA (in 'phone). 
Central, you gave me the wrong number. I want 
Main three two five. . . . (Hangs up.) That 
line's busy, too. (Takes receiver down again.) 
Main six five. . . . Central, how long do you 
[178] 



THE KLEPTOMANIAC 

•mit a line to remain busy? . . . Well, I've 

m trying for ten minutes to get this one. . . . 

3, I'll hold this line until I get it. . . . 

langs up impatiently. ) When I have more time 

11 report that girl ! 

PEGGY {tremulously). 
Suppose they find her, what will they do? 

VALERIE. 

Search her, I suppose, won't they.^^ 

PEGGY. 

0-o-oh! 

FREDA {in 'phone). 
Main six five. . . . Hello. Is this the Chief of 
Police.^ . . . I'm speaking for Mrs. John Bur- 
ton, whose purse was reported lost this afternoon. 
Have you taken any steps to find it.^^ . . . You 
have ? 

PEGGY. 
Oh, Freda ! 

FREDA. 
Keep still, Peggy! {In 'phone.) What.? . . . 
Well, will you please stop the proceedings at once ? 

PEGGY. 

What have they done .? 

[179] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

FREDA. 

Do keep still, Peggy ! (In 'phone.) What? . . , 
No, the things have not been found (Peggy sqhs), 
but we have learned that it's impossible that the 
woman who sat next Mrs. Burton could have taken 
them. We're most anxious that no rumour of this 
suspicion should reach her. . . . What.? . . . 
Do you think you can intercept him ? 

PEGGY. 

Oh, Freda, have they arrested her.? 

FREDA. 

Peggy! {In 'phone.) Oh, please try! And we're 
very sorry to have made you so much trouble. 
. . . No, the purse has not been found. . . . 
Thank you. Good-bye. (Hangs up.) 

VALERIE. 

Well.? 

FREDA. 

He says they've sent a detective up to the hotel, but 
he may be able to intercept him, and he'll keep a 
lookout for the purse. 

PEGGY 

Oh, no ! He mustn't ! Oh, don't let him, Freda I 
[ 180 ] 



THE KLEPTOMANIAC 
FREDA. 

Why, that won't do any harm, Peggy. He may be 
able to find the things. (Door-bell rings.) 

PEGGY. 

No! Oh, no, no! I think policemen are simply 
awful ! I didn't want you to report this in the first 
place. You know I didn't ! And if it hadn't been 
reported, I shouldn't be in this awful scrape ! You 
see, I was right about it all the time, and I simply 
won't be mixed up with them any more! You tell 
them not to do a thing about the purse, Freda. 

FREDA (rising). 

I won't tell them anything so silly. If you want to 
say that, you say it yourself. (Telephone bell 
rings. ) 

PEGGY. 
You answer it, Freda. 

FREDA (coldly). 

No, I think you'd better do your own telephoning 
after this. 

Enter Mabel, breathless and dishevelled^ her hat 

awry and her hair disordered. 

[181] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

PEGGY, FREDA, VALERIE. 

Mabel! 

MABEL (panting). 
Have they caught her? 

THE OTHERS. 

No! Why? 

MABEL. 
Well, I just happened to remember that I told 
Charlie all about it, and he's gone up to the hotel 
to catch her. 

THE OTHERS. 
What! 

MABEL. 
I — I thought it was so dreadful for Peggy to lose 
her engagement ring, you know — for I know how 
I'd feel if I lost mine — I'd almost rather lose my 
wedding ring (Stops for breath.) 

FREDA (sharply). 
Well? Well? Well? 

MABEL. 

So I 'phoned Charlie while you were all in the other 
room with Miss Evans 



FREDA. 

Heavens ! We forgot all about the Evans woman ! 
She'll make no end of trouble ! 
[182] 



THE KLEPTOMANIAC 
MABEL. 

And he said he'd go right up to the hotel, and if he 
saw the woman he'd just talk to her, and make her 
give up poor Peggy's things. (All the others drop 
into chairs with ejaculations,) 



PEGGY. 

FREDA. 

VALERIE. 



Oh, dear! 
Ye gods! 

Good gracious ! 

MABEL. 

And when I found that she was sort of a connection 
of Jack's in a business way, I thought I'd better 
come back and tell you — and I ran nearly all the 
way! 

FREDA. 
Well, now you have done it ! 

VALERIE. 

This is what comes of sharing all the dear little de- 
tails ! 

MABEL (tearfully). 
Well, I wanted to help poor Peggy, and — and I 

knew Charlie could (Telephone bell rings.) 

[183] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

FREDA. 

Yes, undoubtedly Charlie could! I wonder if we 
can intercept him anywhere? 

MABEL. 

No, I think not, for he said he'd leave the office at 
once and wouldn't be home until he'd found the 
woman. 

VALERIE. 

And if there's any one characteristic that Charlie 
possesses in abundance it's perseverance ! 

PEGGY. 

But he doesn't know her ! 

MABEL. 

Oh, I described her very carefully, you know. I 
said she had on a brown tailor suit, made with a 
seven-gored skirt 

FREDA, PEGGY (groaning). 

Oh, Mabel ! ( Telephone bell rings a long peal. ) 

PEGGY (in 'phone). 

Well.? . . . Yes. . . . Oh, the Van Wyke! 
Yes, yes, we have just learned that it was Mrs. 
Howard, and oh, you won't say anything to her 
about it, will you.? . . . Oh, no, not for the 
[184] 



THE KLEPTOMANIAC 

world! . . . And you won't let any of those 
horrid policemen see her, will you? . . . Yes 
(tearfully), they've sent a detective. . . . No, 
we — we haven't found it yet. 

FREDA. 

Ask if Charlie's there. 

PEGGY. 

Oh, thank you, Mr. — is this Mr. Collins? . . . 
Thank you, Mr. Collins. . . . Yes, all my rings. 
They hurt my fingers, you know, and I took them 

off and 

VALERIE. 
Ask if Charlie's there ! 

PEGGY. 

Yes, and a hundred dollars besides. . . . But 
you won't ever let Mrs. Howard know, will you? 
Because her husband is 

MABEL. 

Peggy ! Ask if Charlie's there ! 

PEGGY. 

What? . . . Oh, thank you, Mr. Collins. We're 

so sorry 

[ 185 ] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

FREDA 

{firmly takmg receiver away from Peggy, who 

starts indignantly). . 
Mr. Collins, do you know Mr. Charles Dover .f* 
. . . Well, if a young man with light hair and 
dark eyes comes inquiring for Mrs. Howard, or for 
a woman in a brown tailor suit, tell him the matter 
has been arranged ; and whatever you do, don't let 
him see Mrs. Howard. . . . Er — y-yes, a — a 
sort of detective. 

MABEL. 
Freda ! 

FREDA. 
Thank you. Good-bye. {Hangs up.) 

MABEL. 

Freda, you had no business to say Charlie was a 
detective ! 

FREDA. 
Well, I had to prevent his seeing her in some way. 

MABEL. 

Well, that won't prevent him, for I told him the po- 
lice and hotel people had been notified, and you 
know Charlie says the police never go about any- 
thing the right way, so he isn't going to let them 
get an inkling that he's trying to see her, for fear 
they go and spoil it all. But he's going to the la- 
[ 186 ] 



THE KLEPTOMANIAC 

dies' entrance, and he's going to stand there until 
he sees her, and then he'll speak to her and make 
her give up Peggy's things. 

PEGGY. 

Oh, oh, oh ! How can I ever look Jack in the face 
again! {She sits, on the left, weeping.) 

MABEL 

(sittvng, on the right, weeping). 
I — I'm awfully sorry, girls, but I wanted to help ! 

FREDA. 

Well, you helped! 

VALERIE (hopefully). 
Maybe he won't see her. 

FREDA. 

Yes, and maybe he will — and we all know Charlie ! 
(Peggy and Mabel weep more convulsively.) 

VALERIE. 

Well, perhaps she has the things. Perhaps she is 
a kleptomaniac. Peggy may get her rings by the 
operation, anyway. 

[187] 



FREDA. 

COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

Yes, and Jack has a deal on that involves a hundred 
times the value of that purse and everything in it ! 

MABEL. 

Except P-p-peggy's engagement ring! Nothing 
could ever make up for that ! 

PEGGY. 

Oh, my rings ! Oh, Ja-ack ! Oh, de-e-e-ear! 

MABEL. 

Imagine entertaining a kleptomaniac at dinner! 
Oh, girls, do you suppose she'll wear the rings .f^ 

FREDA. 

Well, not if Charlie has met her! Val, I'm going 
to the hotel to see if I can find Charlie. You tele- 
phone to the Top Crest and get that Evans wom- 
an. Tell her — oh, tell her that I want to see her at 
my house at eight o'clock to-night. I'll tell her 
some sort of a tale that may get us all into print, 
but anyway, it will be better than having the truth 
come out about poor Peggy. You stay here, and if 
I find Charlie, I'll 'phone. And if the woman comes 
before I do, it will be sure proof that she didn't 
meet Charlie, for not even a kleptomaniac would 
[188] 



THE KLEPTOMANIAC 

accept a dinner invitation in the face of an accusa- 
tion like that! (Exit Freda.) 

PEGGY. 

Oh, what will Jack say.'' Oh, girls, what shall I 
tellJack.? 

MABEL. 
Well, you ought to have told Jack in the first place ! 
If you had, I shouldn't have dragged poor Charlie 
into it! (Both weep.) 

VALERIE (in 'phone). 
Main 7, please. . . . Hello. Is that the Top 
Crest? ... Is Miss Evans there.? . . 
Just left.? . . . Will she be back to-night.? 
. . . To the Van Wyke! . . . To interview 
who? . . . Mrs. Otis Howard! My land! 
Well, if she returns, will you tell her that Miss 
Freda Dixon wishes to see her on very important 
business, and that Miss Dixon will be at home at 
eight o'clock ? 

Enter Freda, wearing hat and carrying fur coat. 

VALERIE (continuing). 
What.? . . . You can 'phone her .? . . . Oh, 
thank you! . . . Yes, it's very important. 
. . . No, it must be Miss Evans. . . . Thank 
you. Good night. (Hangs up.) 
[189] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

FREDA {struggling into coat). 
What do they say? 

VALERIE. 

Freda! The Evans woman has gone to the Van 
Wyke to interview Mrs. Otis Howard ! 

FREDA 

{pausing, with the coat half on). 
Ye gods! 

VALERIE. 
She has just left, and they think they can 'phone 
her and give her your message. 

FREDA {scrambling into coat). 
Well, I have always prided myself on being a di- 
rect descendant of Ananias, but I doubt if I shall 
be equal to the occasion if that woman has smelled 
a mouse. Where are my gloves? {Feels in coat- 
pocket.) I — why {examining coat) — this isn't 
my coat ! It's Peggy's. {As she takes the coat off 
she pauses again, startled.) Why — what's that? 
— It's — it's — girls ! Girls ! I've got it ! Here it 
is! 

THE OTHERS. 
What? What? 

Enter Katie with a card, to which she vainly tries 

to attract Peggy's attention, 

[190] 



THE KLEPTOMANIAC 

FREDA. 

Peggy's purse ! There was a rip in the lining 

PEGGY 

(seizi/ng the purse and kissing it rapturously). 
My purse ! My purse ! 

VALERIE. 

There was a rip in the hning ! 

KATIE. 
Mrs. Burton ! There's a lady below ! 

PEGGY (taking card). 
Mrs. Otis Howard ! 

VALERIE. 
Then she has come ! 

MABEL. 
Then Charlie 

PEGGY. 
Then Jack 

FREDA. 
Then all of us 



ALL TOGETHER. 

Oh, girls! 

Curtain. 
[191] 



A PIPE OF PEACE 



A PIPE OF PEACE 

A Comedy in One Act 

CHARACTERS 

Joseph Terrill. 
Gladys Terrill. 
Molly, the maid. 



The TerrUls' dmi/ng-room, low-ceiled, and pan- 
elled in dark woods, is lighted hy many candles, 
held in brass candlesticks of every conceivable age 
and country. They adorn the table, the buffet, the 
sideboard, the mantel, and are placed at intervals 
on a shelf which runs around the room, where they 
stand between pieces of antique and more or less 
perfectly preserved china, and strange Oriental, 
Russian, and Hungarian brasses. The brass and- 
irons in the fireplace date back four generations, as 
does the warming-pan hanging near them. The 
polished floors are covered with rare Eastern rugs, 
and everything about the room betokens the enthu- 
siastic collector. The dining-table, on the left, is 
daintily equipped, and on a small writing-table, on 
the opposite side of the room, stand a desk tele- 
phone, lighted candles, and a brass jar of twisted 
paper spills. A wide doorway at the back, on the 
right, discloses the divans, lounging chairs, pipe- 
racks, and other comfortable paraphernalia of the 
smoking-room beyond. Another doorway, at the 
back on the left, leads to the hall, and a third door, 
on the left, to the butler's pantry. 

At the table, Gladys Terrill, a slender, grace- 
[ 195 ] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

ful, impulsive young woman, charmingly dressed, 
sits opposite her big, good-natured, tender-hearted 
husband, whose glance is steady and whose chin is 
firm. 

They are just finishing dinner. 

JOE 

(taking the last sip of his coffee). 
Ah! That new cook is a jewel, Gladys! That's 
better coffee than I've had before in a month. 

GLADYS (smiling). 
Even at the club ? 

JOE. 
Even at the club. It's a fitting finish to a perfect 
dinner. ( To himself, as he pushes back his chair. ) 
I wonder how long it will take her to confess ? ( To 
her.) If I were a suspicious man, or you were an 
artful woman — and were I the one, you would un- 
doubtedly become the other — I should suspect that 
you had some reason to fear my displeasure 
(Gladys moves uneasily), and had planned this 
dinner for the special purpose of disarming me. 
I thought I was cross when I came home, and I 
know I was tired and anxious ; but now — it needs 
but a pipe and some music to make my content- 
ment complete. (He rises and walks toward the 
smoking-room. ) 

[196] 



A PIPE OF PEACE 

GLADYS (hastily). 
Oh, Joe, I forgot to tell you ! I got such a gem 
of a chair to-day ! 

JOE 

(in the smoking-room, absently, as he looks from 

side to side). 
Yes? 

GLADYS. 
A genuine antique — mahogany, of course. It be- 
longed to Martha Washington's mother, and is in 
perfect condition. 

JOE. 
That's good. Gladys, do you know where my 
pipe is.f^ 

GLADYS 
(rising, laughing nervously). 
What pipe? You have so many! I don't smoke 
your pipes, Joe! But come, let me tell you about 
this chair! (Joe abandons the search for the pipe 
and rejoins her. ) It's such a dear ! It's quite low, 
with a high back, curved so (illustrating) — a most 
unusual shape, the man said. It's great luck to 
get a piece so well authenticated. 

JOE. 

Did he give you a pedigree with it? 
[ 197 ] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

GLADYS. 

Well, he assured me that it had belonged to the 
Custis family. 

JOE. 
The Custis family ! I thought you said it belonged 
to Martha Washington's mother. 

GLADYS. 

Well, her name was Custis before it was Washing- 
ton, wasn't it? 

JOE. 
To be sure, it was ! Mrs. Custis. 

GLADYS. 

Oh! Why — that's so! Oh, well, he probably 
meant her mother-in-law. Some people disregard 
those small distinctions, you know. 

JOE. 

True. Accuracy seems incompatible with a taste 
for curios. 

GLADYS. 
And from the Custis family it passed to the Lees. 

JOE. 

Aurora Leigh, I suppose ? Or was it the beautiful 
Annabel ? 

[198] 



A PIPE OF PEACE 

GLADYS. 

Joe! And he bought it from a cousin of the Lees, 
a Mrs. Stanton, who has fallen upon evil days and 
has had to part with all of the family plate. Isn't 
it sad ! 

JOE 
(poking about among the brasses on the mantel). 
Very. I wonder where that pipe can be.'' I 
thought I put it in the rack last night. 

GLADYS. 

You did. That is — er — I think you did. 

JOE. 

Well, why isn't it there, then.? 

GLADYS. 

Oh, well, never mind! Take another one. I want 
to show you the chair. 

JOE. 

But I want that one. Nothing but that meer- 
schaum is fit to smoke after such a dinner! 

GLADYS {falteringly). 
Are you so very fond of it? 
1 199 ] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

JOE. 
Fond of it! That pipe has been my best friend 
for years. 

GLADYS {archly). 
Your best friend? 

JOE 
{vn the doorway on his way to the smokmg-room). 

When you flouted me and would none of me, my 
dear, it was my only solace! When I was trying 
to screw my courage to the proposing point, it 
was my sole confidante. And when, finally, you 
promised to marry me, it alone knew the ineffable 
joy that filled my soul ! My pipe ! My pipe ! My 
kingdom for my pipe ! 

{He disappears in the smoking-room.) 

GLADYS. 

Oh, dear! . . . Joe, dear, come here a mo- 
ment. 

JOE {outside). 

Just a moment. I want to find 



GLADYS {faintly) 

No, dear ; come now, please. 
[200] 



A PIPE OF PEACE 

JOE {hurrying to her). 
What's the matter, dearie? Are you ill? Do you 
feel faint? 

GLADYS {holding him off). 
Oh, no, no — I'm all right, only — Sit there, 
please, while I tell you what — what I paid — for 
that chair. 

JOE {to himself). 
Aha! Now for the pipe story! {To her, easily.) 
Oh, that's all right, dearie ! I never question your 
expenditures, you know. 

GLADYS. 

Yes, but I — I — must tell you about — ^this one. 

JOE 

{to himself, as he wheels up a chair for her). 
Poor little girl ! I ought to tell her that I rescued 
the pipe. Confound it, though, it's time she had a 
lesson. 

GLADYS. 
Come, Joe! 

JOE 
{with a grimace of mock resignation). 

Very well; but why this sudden enthusiasm over 

foundered furniture, anyway? I thought that 

[201 ] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

nothing but ancient and honourable brass, with 
"the loving marks of the hammer" upon it, was 
worthy of your love — and your lucre. 

GLADYS. 

Oh, of course, brass is all very well, but I have a 
great deal of it ; and it's getting to be rather a 
vulgar and commonplace pursuit — collecting brass. 
Everybody's doing it now. 

JOE. 

Has your dear, disagreeable friend Mrs. Corliss 
succeeded in getting any yet? 

GLADYS. 

Oh, she has a few small pieces, and one very good 
samovar and tray. Poor Mrs. Corliss ! She called 
upon me last week, and when she saw my new can- 
dlesticks — the ones from Manila, you know — she 
positively grew pale ! I knew how envious she was 
when she began talking of the mahogany table that 
descended to her from her great-grandmother, who 
belonged to an obscure branch of the Lee family. 
Then she said, in that lofty, patronising way of 
hers: "Nothing gives such an air of quiet distinc- 
tion to a room, Mrs. Terrill, as a few fine old pieces 
of mahogany." 

[202] 



A PIPE OF PEACE 
JOE (laughing). 
Poor Gladys ! And you hadn't a single stick ! 

GLADYS ( vmdictively ) , 

Well, I have now! And it antedates her grand- 
mother, too, and comes from the main branch of 
the same family, with the Custis connection back 
of that! 

JOE. 
Whee-ew! "Charge, Chester, charge! On, Stan- 
ley, on !" All right, dearie, I'm glad to see you 
win. (Rises.) 

GLADYS (breathlessly). 

Oh, Joe ! Wait ! That is— I— I haven't told you 
yet about that chair — about what I gave for it, 
you know. 

JOE. 
Oh, never mind, sweetheart. Nothing — within 
reason, of course — is too much to pay for a vic- 
tory over Mrs. Corliss. I confess I don't like that 
woman; and I won't have her patronising you, 
confound her ! 

GLADYS (taking courage). 

Then maybe you'll forgive me ! You see, the man 

who had that chair heard, somehow, that I bought 

[203] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

a good deal of brass, and he came here yesterday to 
tell me that he had some andirons and things. They 
weren't genuine antiques, and, of course, I didn't 
want them. Some one was in the reception-room 
at the time, and I received him in here, and — and — 
he saw — he saw that old meerschaum of yours in 
the pipe-rack 

JOE. 

Gladys ! You didn't 



GLADYS. 

Wait, Joe ! Please ! He admired it very much- 



JOE {savagely). 
Of course he did ! ( To himself. ) Oh, what a brute 
I am! 

GLADYS. 
And said that he had an order for just such a pipe 
from — from — oh, I've forgotten the name — some 
pipe collector — and asked me if I'd sell the pipe. 

JOE. 

And you.? 

GLADYS. 
I said no, of course ! 

JOE. 
Of course you did! 

[ 204 ] 



A PIPE OF PEACE 

GLADYS. 

Then he asked me if I was interested in mahogany. 
Well, I remembered Mrs. Corliss and her stupid old 
table, so I said I was, and he told me about this 
chair and offered to bring it here to-day. So this 
morning he brought it and — 

JOE {indignantly). 
And stole my pipe ! The villain ! I'll have him 

GLADYS. 

Oh, Joe, please wait! 

JOE (impatiently). 
Well, go on! Go on! What happened .^^ Who is 
he? Where's his shop.? 

GLADYS. 

He said he had another customer for the chair, who 
had offered him fifty dollars for it yesterday after- 
noon, but that he had promised me the first chance. 
I — I said that fifty dollars seemed a great deal 
for a small, plain chair, and then he said that — he 
said — he — oh, Joe! (She hides her face.) 

JOE (grimly). 
Go on. (From this point Joe's indignation be- 
comes more and more genuine. ) 
[205] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

GLADYS. 

He said that if I'd let him have the pipe I might 
have the chair for — thirty dollars. 

JOE. 

Gladys, did you 



GLADYS. 

I told him I'd speak to you about it ; but he said the 
other customer was waiting for the chair 

JOE {sarcastically). 
Of course the other customer was waiting! They 
always are! And the telephone, I suppose, was 
out of order.? 

GLADYS. 

I did try to 'phone to you, Joe, but the boy said 
that you were out and wouldn't be back until after 
five o'clock. 

JOE. 

Well.? 

GLADYS. 

So I told the man that I couldn't buy the chair, and 
he was taking it away when I happened to wonder 
who the other customer was. I asked him, and he 
couldn't remember the name, but said it was a lady 
[ 206 ] 



A PIPE OF PEACE 

living in Washington Avenue. Then I knew that 
it must be Mrs. Corliss, and he was very sure that 
that was the name 

JOE. 

Of course he was ! Oh, Gladys ! 

GLADYS. 

Joe, he got clear to the gate with that chair, and 
when I thought of Mrs. Corliss's getting it I just 
couldn't let it go. I called him back and offered 
forty dollars for it 

JOE. 

Why didn't you give him fifty ? 

GLADYS. 
I hadn't it. I've exceeded my allowance already. 
And when he refused forty I — I — I gave him the 
pipe! {Joe turns away^ with a muttered exclama- 
tion.) It was only an old stained thing, anyway, 
Joe ; and I went right down town and bought you a 
nice new one! See! {She goes to a cabinet and 
produces a new meerschaum, of a shape to arouse 
all a pipe-lover'' s wrath.) Isn't that a nice clean 
one? {Joe groans.) And just think what fun 
you'll have colouring it! The other one was fin- 
ished, wasn't it.? 

[ 207 ] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

JOE {despairingly). 
Gladys, that pipe was — oh, hang it, what's the use ! 
Where's the chair? 

GLADYS. 

In the Hbrary. Why? (Joe touches a bell on the 
table, ) 

Enter from the butler's pantry Molly, the maid. 

JOE. 

Molly, bring in the old chair that Mrs. Terr ill 
bought this afternoon. (Exit Molly.) 

(Joe paces moodily to and fro, while Gladys fusses 
nervously about the table, occasionally glanc- 
ing at him.) 

Enter Molly, pushing the chair before her. It is 
of plain, rather awkward shape. Its dark, 
scratched surface is rough with the accumu- 
lated dust of attic and second-hand shop, and 
its seat, once brave in glassy black haircloth, 
dull tatters of which still remain, is lumpy 
and without resilience. The weary springs 
have thrust themselves out at the bottom, and 
hang in dejected spirals, scraps of the ragged 
lining still clinging to them. Through a 
heavy silence, Molly pushes this forlorn 
remnant to the centre of the room, and then, 
tittering irrepressibly, she hurries out, 
I 208 ] 



A PIPE OF PEACE 

GLADYS 

{her courage returning as she contemplates her 
purchase). 

There, Joe ! Don't you see what a prize that is ? See 
that curve ! So much feeling ! And the 

JOE (explosively). 
Gladys Terrill! You gave my pipe— and thirty 
dollars — for that? 

GLADYS. 

Why, Joe, that's-^ 

JOE. 

It's a blooming old fraud, that's what it is! And 

my pipe, my meerschaum pipe, went for (He 

shakes his head in mournful despair.) 

GLADYS. 

But Joe ! You have so many pipes ! And that 
one was all coloured. I thought the interest in a 
meerschaum lay in colouring it. You don't care to 
make collections, so I don't see why 

JOE. 

For heaven's sake, Gladys ! Do you change your 

fad so often that you have no comprehension of 

sentimental values? Does it mean nothing to you 

[209] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

that a thing has been closely associated with all 
your moods for years? On my soul, I believe 
you're a lineal descendant of Esau — but you 
haven't even the decent excuse of hunger ! One of 
these days I shall find that you've renounced me 
for a cracked teacup or an old bent spoon. One 
piece of silver would be about my price, I imagine, 
if it were a genuine antique ! 

GLADYS. 

Joe, I may have been at fault, but I've done noth- 
ing to call down upon my head any such bitter, 
cruel tirade as this ! 

JOE. 

Oh, haven't you? When you painted snow-scenes 
on wooden shovels and mounted them on plush 
plaques ; when you daubed tropical landscapes on 
sections of stove-pipe and stood them in terra- 
cotta saucers for umbrella-stands; when you filled 
the house with millinery stuff and tied gilded 
artichokes to the backs of the easy-chairs with pink 
ribbons, "in the interests of sacred home-bred Art," 
did I make any remonstrance? When you pitched 
all that out and took to Japanese screens and 
bamboo furniture ; tacked fans on the walls and put 
inflammable paper umbrellas over all the chande- 
liers ; when you painted writhing, sprawling, repul- 
[ 210 ] 



A PIPE OF PEACE 

sive gilt dragons on blue-cotton curtains and hung 
them in my bedroom, I said nothing. When you 
banished all the carpets and put down noisy, cold, 
comfortless, slippery hardwood floors, I risked my 
life daily without a murmur, and paid cheerfully 
for the Persian rugs ! 

GLADYS. 
But, Joe, sanitary considerations 



JOE. 

Yes, I know. Antique rugs, woven amid unspeak- 
able filth and used for years in vile Oriental 
squalor — full of heaven knows how many kinds of 
microbes — are absolutely necessary to the latest 
improved modern sanitation! When you filled the 
house with cracked china, and raved over the "sin- 
cerity" of a pitcher that had lost its handle and 
wouldn't hold water, I made no comment. And 
when you began buying brass, I saw the gas and 
the lamps and the electricity give place to sputter- 
ing candles in order that you might show your 
brass candlesticks, and I held my peace! Every 
nook and corner of this house is full of old junk 
that you paid Lord knows what for, and that you'll 
donate, some day, to the Society for the Beau- 
tification of Scavengers' Homes ! But the end has 
come ! I'll be hanged if I'm going to submit to 
[211] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

having all the comfortable chairs in the house 
banished to make room for stiff, spavined, knock- 
kneed old trumpery like that! 

GLADYS (with dignity). 
Joe, even if you have no appreciation of Art, you 
must admit that that chair has historic value. 

JOE. 

Historic nonsense! That chair's a bally old cheat 
on the face of it, and anybody can see with half 
an eye that it's no more of an antique than I am. 
It was probably in the heyday of its youth and 
beauty about the time your mother was married. 
(He takes out his penknife and scratches the 
•wood, while she flutters protestingly to the rescue.) 
I thought so! You'll acknowledge, I think, that 
while I'm no judge of the values of sheet-iron um- 
brella-stands, or broken crockery, or battered 
brass, I do know something about woods, and I as- 
sure you that that chair is made of plain, ordinary, 
every-day walnut! 

GLADYS. 

Joe! Joe, you don't mean that! Walnut? 

JOE. 

Walnut! And for that, you bartered my meer- 
schaum pipe; the pipe that I got in Heidelberg; 



A PIPE OF PEACE 

that was the pride of my student days, and my 
friend and best companion in the disheartening 
years after my father's death! The pipe that I 
have coloured carefully and lovingly, and that has 
contributed to my pleasure and comfort every day 
for fifteen years! The colour in that pipe com- 
prised the softest, smoothest, most exquisite tones 
imaginable, and was a constant source of delight to 
me. You tell me that I have no soul for beauty, 
no appreciation of Art, and then you sell that pipe 
for — that! 

GLADYS 

{icily, her back toward him). 

Have you been quite brutal enough now? Are 
there are any more unkind things that you wish 
to say? Have you hurt and humiliated me suffi- 
ciently? (Turning suddenly upon him.) I didn't 
know that your affections were so bound up in that 
ugly, smelly, old pipe, and I'm sure it would never 
occur to any sane person that the thing could be 
desirable I 

JOE. 

Ho, wouldn't it ! It's not six months since Delvan 
offered me seventy-five dollars for it. It's one of 
the finest pieces of meerschaum in this country. 
[ 213 ] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

GLADYS. 

Delvan? Delvan! Who is Delvan? 

JOE. 

Fellow at the club who prides himself on his col- 
lection of pipes. He hasn't a meerschaum among 
them all to equal mine. He's been begging for it 
for months. 

GLADYS (tragically), 
Joe, he's the man ! 

JOE 
(his anger spent, concealing a smile). 
What man? 

GLADYS. 
The man who wants your pipe. 

JOE (coolly). 
Why, of course he wants my pipe. I just said so. 

GLADYS. 

I mean the man who said he wanted a pipe like 
that. 

JOE. 

Certainly; he wanted that one. 
[S14] 



A PIPE OF PEACE 

GLADYS. 

Can't you see ? You are so obtuse, Joe ! The man 
said that a man had given him an order for a pipe, 
and he's the man. 

JOE {solicitously). 
Gladys, are you losing your mind? What man.? 

GLADYS. 

Joe Terrill, you are the slowest! The man who 
sold the chair ! 

JOE {slowly), 
Delvan is the man who sold 

GLADYS. 

No, no, no ! The man who sold the chair said he 
had an order from a pipe collector 

JOE. 
Oh! 

GLADYS. 

And Delvan's the man ! 

JOE {very deliberately). 
Damn ! 

GLADYS. 

Joe! 

[215] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

JOE. 

Delvan's been making offers for that pipe for at 
least two years, and only last week I told him he'd 
never get it. 

GLADYS (timidly). 
Wouldn't he give it back to you, Joe? 

JOE. 
Give it back to me ! 

GLADYS. 

Yes, if you told him the circumstances ; — that I 

JOE (distinctly). 
That my wife traded off a valuable pipe, my per- 
sonal property, for an old walnut chair and thirty 
pieces of silver? Oh, yes, I dare say that if I told 
him that, he'd return the pipe — with his condo- 
lences ! 

GLADYS. 
Oh, Joe! Of course, you couldn't tell him that; 
but — but / can, and I will. (She runs to the writ- 
ing-table and takes up the telephone directory,) 
I'll telephone to him this very minute that I 

JOE (sternly). 

You'll do nothing of the kind ! (He takes the book 

from her, closing it.) This is not a matter to be 

[216] 



A PIPE OF PEACE 

adjusted over the telephone, and I forbid you, 
Gladys, to say anything whatever about this mat- 
ter to Mr. Delvan, either now or at any future 
time. 

GLADYS (rising, aghast). 
You forbid me! 

JOE. 
I forbid you! (Exit Joe to hall.) 

(Gladys stares after hvm in amazement, gasps, 
blinks, and then, as the full realisation of the 
result of her bargaining overwhelms her, she 
wrings her hands and drops into a chair at 
the writing-table, burying her face in her 
arms. ) 

Enter Joe, carrying his hat, overcoat, and a heavy 
stick. 

JOE. 

What's this curio dealer's name, Gladys? And 
where's his shop? 

GLADYS (dully). 
His name's Gortowski, and his shop's in Curtis 
Place. Why? 

JOE. 
I'm going there to see if he's sold the pipe. 
[ 217 ] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

GLADYS (rising in alarm). 
Now ? 

JOE. 
Now. 

GLADYS. 
But his shop will be closed. 

JOE. 

I'll find him. Those people always live in or be- 
hind or under or over their shops. I'll find him. 

GLADYS. 

But suppose he's sold the pipe? 

JOE. 

Then it's gone. 

GLADYS. 
And if not.? 

JOE. 
If not, I shall buy it of him. 

GLADYS. 

But — but, Joe, he'll ask an awful lot of money 
for that pipe. 

JOE (grimly). 
Very probably. It's worth a lot. Good-bye. 
[218] 



A PIPE OF PEACE 

GLADYS. 

But — Joe, I'm afraid for you to go down into 
that neighbourhood at night. It's dangerous ! 

JOE. 
Nonsense ! 

GLADYS. 

Take me with you, then ! 

JOE. 
No, I prefer to go alone. 

GLADYS. 

Why.? 

JOE. 

Well — I think — that is — I can do more with him 
if you — at least, if I'm alone. 

GLADYS 

(her alarm rapidly increasing). 
Joe, do you think you'll have trouble with him.? 
Is that it.? Oh, Joe dear, don't go! I'll get your 
pipe back somehow, if I have to go down on my 
hands and knees for it, only don't — {hysterically) 
don't go down there and fight with that man ! 

JOE (patting her hand reassuringly). 

No, no ! What a nervous little woman it is ! I've 

no intention of fighting with him, but I may have 

[219] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

to — well, to scare him, and I can do that better 
if you're not with me. 

GLADYS. 

Scare him? How? 

JOE (to himself). 

Jingo ! This is more than I bargained for ! ( To 
her.) Oh, threaten him with some legal process, 
or something. Don't fret about it, Gladys. I'll 
get the pipe if it's there, but nobody will be hurt. 

GLADYS. 

Oh, I'm so frightened! Have you your revolver? 

JOE. 

No, this stick will do. 

GLADYS. 

Oh, please take your revolver, dear! It wouldn't 
be safe to go down there without it ! 

JOE. 

That isn't a bad neighbourhood. 

GLADYS. 

It may be — at night. Please, dear! 
[220] 



A PIPE OF PEACE 

JOE. 

I don't believe it's loaded. 

GLADYS. 

No, don't you remember ? I made you take out the 
— the — what-you-may-call-'ems, and I put them, 
for safety, in a jeweller's box at the back of my 
top drawer. 

JOE. 
There must be a box of cartridges somewhere. 

GLADYS. 

Yes, they're there, too — in my top drawer. Please 
get them, dear. 

JOE. 
All right — ^though there's no earthly need of it. 
(He pauses at the hall door.) Your top drawer, 
you say.'' 

GLADYS. 
Yes; 'way at the back, under some laces — or 
maybe it's handkerchiefs. You'll find them, any- 
way. 

(Exit Joe, leaving his hat, coat, and stick on a 
chair near the dvnmg-table.) 

(Gladys wanders about in deep distress, until a 
sudden thought halts her abruptly. Her 
kindling glance turns toward the writing- 
[ 221 ] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

table, then toward the hall. She listens 

keenly for an kistant, eagerly runs to the 

telephone, seizes the recein^er and speaks 
rapidly. ) 

GLADYS. 

Main three seven one. . . . Yes. . . . No, 
Main three seven one! . . . Hello! Is that 
the Union Club.? ... Is Mr. Fred Terrill 
there.? ... If you find him, ask him to come 
to the 'phone at once, please. Hurry! 
(Pause, during which she taps her foot, glances 
apprehensively toward the hall, and frowns.) 
. . . Hello! Oh, hello, Fred! . . . Yes, 
Gladys. Oh, Fred, I'm in the most awful scrape! 
How much money have you ? . . . What ? 
How much do I want.? . . . Oh, 
seventy-five or a hundred dollars, I suppose. 
Perhaps more. . . . What? . . . You can 
get it? . . . Thank Heaven! Then go to 
Gortowski's curio shop in Curtis Place — it's not 
far from the club — and get Joe's pipe. Give him 
any sum he asks and I'll repay you when I get my 
next allowance. Run, Fred! . . . Joe's pipe. 
The meerschaum, you know. . . . Oh, never 
mind ! I'll tell you all about it to-morrow. . . . 
Well, if you must know, I traded it for a horrid 
old chair and I must get it back. . . . Yes, 



A PIPE OF PEACE 

the one he got in Heidelberg. . . . Oh, yes, 
I know! Never mind about that. Joe's said it 
all! . . . Joe says he's going down for the 
pipe to-night, and I'm afraid he'll kill the man! 
He's getting his revolver now. You must get 
there first. Will you go? 

JOE (from the head of the stairs), 
Gladys ! 

GLADYS {in 'phone). 
Wait a minute! {She runs to the door.) Yes, 
Joe.? 

JOE. 
I can't find those cartridges. It was your revolver 
you put in your top drawer. 

GLADYS. 

Oh, so it was! Let me think! . . . Oh {slowly)^ 
I must have put the — er — bullet things in my bon- 
net-box. The round one on the top shelf — ^left- 
hand side — back. {She listens a moment , mis- 
chievously smiling^ nods triumphantly, and runs 
hack to 'phone. As she goes, she pauses long 
enough to thrust Joe's stick under the edge of a 
rug. She speaks in 'phone. ) Hello, Fred ! . . . 
Oh, hello ! Will you go ? . . . Oh, you're a 
darling! And oh, Fred, if you get the pipe, 
[223] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

'phone me at once, won't you? I'm nearly crazy! 
I'll keep him here as long as I can. He's hunting 
for his cartridges now, and I've told him the 
wrong place, so he won't find them right away! 
And I've hidden his stick. Run, Fred! And — 
hello! . . . Hello! . . . Fred! . . . 
Don't forget to 'phone me. . . . Yes. . . . 
Yes. . . . That's right. Good-bye. (She sighs 
as she hangs up the receiver.) 

Joe comes vn from the hall, snapping an unloaded 
revolver. Every time the trigger falls, she 
starts apprehensively. 

JOE. 

I can't find those cartridges, Gladys, but here's 
the gun. I could run a tolerably successful bluff 
with this, if it were necessary — which it won't be. 
(Takes up his hat and coat and looks about for 
his stick. ) Where's my stick ? 

GLADYS. 

Your stick? Why — you brought it in here with 
you, didn't you? 

JOE. 
I thought I did. Confound the thing! Where 
has it gone to? 

GLADYS. 
Maybe you left it in the hall. 
[ 224 ] 



A PIPE OF PEACE 

JOE. 

No, don't you remember? When you spoke of the 
revolver I said 

GLADYS. 

You said the stick would do, but did you have it 
in your hand? 

(After a moment spent in further search, Joe goes 
into the hall. Gladys covers the stick more 
completely with the rug, maki/ng sure it is 
perfectly concealed, and is once more appar- 
ently looking for the missing cane when Joe 
re-enters, with a lighter one.) 

JOE. 

Never mind, Gladys, this one will do. Good-bye. 

GLADYS {firmly). 
No, Joe ; if you won't carry a loaded revolver, you 
must take a heavy stick. Now I think of it, per- 
haps you had the big one in your hand when you 
started upstairs for the revolver. Maybe you left 
it up there. 

JOE. 

Possibly I did. {He goes toward the hall and pauses 
in the doorway.) By the way, who telephoned 
just now? 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

GLADYS (innocently). 

Telephoned ? 

JOE. 
Yes; weren't you at the 'phone? 

GLADYS. 

Oh — why — oh, it was Fred, you know. Said he 
might be up by-and-by. Why don't you wait until 
he comes? Then he can go down with you and 
help intimidate the man. 

JOE. 

I thought he was going to take May Sloane and 
her mother to the opera to-night. Said he was. 

GLADYS. 

Oh, did he? Maybe he's coming up after — that 
is, before — at least — perhaps she's sick and can't 
go! 

JOE. 
Guess not. I came up in the car with her to-night, 
and she seemed unusually lively. 

GLADYS. 

Oh, well, perhaps I misunderstood Fred. He was 
in a great hurry about something. Maybe he 
said he couldn't come up to-night. 
[226] 



A PIPE OF PEACE 

JOE. 

That's funny, too. You weren't expecting him, 
were ^iou.f^ 

GLADYS. 
No — yes — oh, I don't know. Maybe I was. I 
can't pretend to remember all the engagements 
your brother makes and breaks with me! 

JOE (mournfully). 
Fred will feel mighty bad about this pipe business ! 
That meerschaum was the only one of my bachelor 
possessions that he envied me. (Sighs.) Well — I 
must find that stick. (As he turns to go, the tele- 
phone bell rings. He moves to answer it and 
Gladys dexterously slides into the chair and takes 
the receiver. ) Who's that ? 

GLADYS. 

How should I know ^ Run along and get your stick. 
He'll have time to sell that pipe four times before 
you get there at this rate ! ( Joe goes out, leaving 
hat and coat, as before, on the chair. Gladys 
speaks eagerly in ^ phone. ) Hello ! . . . Hello ! 
. . Yes. Hello, Fred! Did you get it? 
. . . What? . . . Sold? . . . Not there! 
Oh, impossible ! He's deceiving you ! I gave it to 
him myself, and if he hasn't sold it, it must be — 
. . . What? ... Joe! ... Oh, no! 
[227] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

There's some mistake ! . . . What! Joe? Wait 
a minute. {Glancing toward the holly she goes to 
Joe's coat, and after feeling hurriedly in several 
pockets, she suddenly pauses. Her shoulders stiffen 
and her lips form a rigid line as she slowly draws 
forth a very handsome meerschaum pipe-bowl, 
attached to the long stem affected hy German stu- 
dents. She places it very carefully on the dining- 
table and returns, with great dignity and delibera- 
tion, to the telephone. When she speaks, her tone 
is icy and her enunciation sharply precise.) Very 
well, Fred. . . . Yes, it is here. ... I do 
not know. Your brother has not explained. . . . 
Yes. Thank you. . . . Good-bye. (She hangs 
up the receiver and crosses slowly to the opposite 
side of the dining-table, where she sits, her back to 
the hall door. ) 

Presently enter Joe. 

JOE {irritably). 

I can't find that stick anywhere, Gladys. I'm going 
without it. ( Takes up his hat and coat and goes to 
the door.) Good-bye. {He pauses in the doorway.) 
Good-bye, Gladys. {Save for a barely perceptible 
twitching of the erect shoulders, there is no reply. 
He steps toward her, and as he does so he catches 
sight of the pipe lying on the table. He pauses, 
[228] 



A PIPE OF PEACE 

half smilingy in whimsical appreciation of the sit- 
uation, drops his coat and hat, thrusts his hands 
into his trousers* pockets, looks at Gladys, at the 
pipe, and at Gladys again. Whistles, softly, three 
ascending notes, and then attempts a debonair 
manner. Oh — ah, ha, ha, ha! I see you — er — 
you found the pipe ! ( Gladys surveys him scorn- 
fully, and an uneasy note creeps into his laugh.) 
Little joke, you see! Thought I'd — ha, ha, ha! 
Didn't work, though! {Rather ruefully.) Might 
have known it wouldn't! You're so deuced clever, 
you know! Ha, ha — ha — ha. {Mirthlessly his 
laugh dies out and he regards her motionless figure 
nervously. ) Oh — er — Gladys ! I say — Gladys ! 

GLADYS {in a level tone). 
Well? 

JOE 

{fingering the pipe for inspiration) . 
Aren't you glad I got it? 

GLADYS. 

Very. 

JOE. 

Why don't you exhibit symptoms of joy, then? 

GLADYS. 

There are moments when one's emotions may be 

rather varied. Since you seem so well satisfied with 

[229] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

yourself and the situation (rising) I will remove 
my unsympathetic presence and leave you to the 
full and complete enjoyment of your pipe and — 
your amusing reflections ! (As she sweeps toward 
the door he intercepts her and attempts to touch her 
arm. She recoils and stands very erect.) 

JOE. 

Oh, I say, now, Gladys ! Don't be hard on a fellow ! 
Maybe I did carry it a trifle too far 

GLADYS. 

A trifle too far.? 

JOE. 

Well, you went rather far yourself, didn't you? 

GLADYS. 

Possibly I did — but, at any rate, I was truthful ! / 
didn't stoop to petty, contemptible deception ! 

JOE. 

Deception is rather a strong word to apply to a 
harmless little joke. 

GLADYS. 

And you regard it only as a "harmless little joke" 

to deceive your wife, to let her make a long, painful 

[ 230 ] 



A PIPE OF PEACE 

and entirely unnecessary confes — explanation, to 
hurt and humiliate her with your reproaches, to 

swear at her 

JOE. 
Gladys ! 

GLADYS. 
You said damn ! To frighten her nearly to death 
with your threats 

JOE. 

My dear girl, I made no threats ! 

GLADYS. 

Nor did you go pawing through my laces for your 
revolver, I suppose ! 

JOE. 

At your request, however. 

GLADYS {hysterically indignant). 
Probably I should have enjoyed the prospect of 
having you killed by that awful old Gortowski, 

but 

JOE. 

Gladys, there was no question of killing nor of 

fighting, except what existed in your imagination. 

The plain facts in the case are these. I stepped 

[231] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

into the club to-night and met Delvan. He said: 
"Come on with me, Terrill. I've just heard of a 
pipe that by all accounts beats yours, and I'm going 
to see it. Old Gortowski got it for me." So we 
walked over to Gortowski's shop, and there we found 
— my pipe! 

GLADYS. 

Well.? 

JOE. 

Well, of course, we both recognised it at once, and 
I questioned the fellow sharply. Little by little he 
told us the principal facts, as you have told them 
to me since. Delvan knows a thing or two himself 
about antiques and curios, and he had seen the chair 
and knew it wasn't genuine. So, together, we bul- 
lied and threatened the old rascal 

GLADYS. 

Threatened him with what.? 

JOE (easily). 

Oh, with suit for obtaining money under false pre- 
tences, and — other things. 

GLADYS. 

What other things.? tloe, you have deceived me 
long enough ! Tell me the truth. 
[232] 



A PIPE OF PEACE 

JOE. 

Well, you see, dear, the pipe was — was really — 
well — mine, you know, and — he had — er — had — 
well — received it — from — from you, you know, 

and 

GLADYS (hotly). 
In other words, you accused him of receiving — 
stolen goods! 

JOE. 
Well, something like that, I believe. Delvan's a 
lawyer, too, you know, and between us we piled it 
on rather strong. 

GLADYS. 

And so, for the sake of a piece of old meerschaum, 
you've not only lied to your wife but you have 
branded her before your friend and a vulgar curio 
dealer as — as a thief! Don't touch me! Don't 
dare to touch me ! 

JOE (contritely), 
Gladys, my darling, what can I say to you? 

GLADYS. 

Nothing. It is best that you should say nothing. 
Any explanations that you could make would only 
serve to intensify the situation. (She moves ma- 
jestically toward the door.) 
[233] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

JOE {desperately). 
But, Gladys, you do me great injustice I Delvan 
will tell you 

GLADYS. 

I do not know Mr. Delvan, nor do I care to know 
him, and it can hardly be supposed that he desires 
to meet — a thief, condemned by her own husband ! 

JOE. 

But I didnH condemn you, dearie ! Delvan said 



Enter Molly, carrying a box of flowers and a note, 
which she takes to Gladys. 

MOLLY. 

The messenger is waiting for an answer. 

GLADYS {reading the note). 
"My dear Mrs. Terrill : Will you accept the com- 
pliments and congratulations of a crusty old — " 
You may go, Molly. (Molly goes out. When the 
door has closed behind her, Gladys resumes:) — "of 
a crusty old bachelor who greatly desires to be called 
your friend? My compliments are due to any 
woman who is sufficiently charming to keep her hus- 
band romantically in love with her after many years 
of married life, and my congratulations are offered 
because that fine fellow, Terrill, quarrelled with me 
[234] 



A PIPE OF PEACE 

this afternoon (Joe smiles broadly) when, in order 
to obtain possession of that marvellous pipe, I slan- 
dered you. I trust, however, that his wrath may 
have cooled somewhat ere this (Joe, still smiling, 
fills the pipe from a pocJcet-pouch and strolls over 
to the writing-table, where he selects, with great 
care, a spill from those in the jar), and I beg, not 
only that you will accept my apologies for this 
afternoon's calumny, but that you will grant me 
permission to call upon you this evening, that he 
and I may smoke together a pipe of peace. (Joe 
lights the spill in the candle-flame.) Hopefully 
yours, Chauncey Cole Delvan." (The note 
flutters to the floor.) Oh, Joe! 

(^He quickly extinguishes the burning spill, and 
as he holds out eager arms to her, she rwns to 
hvm and hides her face on his shoulder.) 

Curtain. 



[235] 



A CHRISTMAS CHIME 



A CHRISTMAS CHIME 

A voice y a chime ^ 
A chant sublime 
Of peace on earth, good-will to men ! 

— Longfellow. 



CHARACTERS 

Joseph Terrill. 
Gladys Terrill. 
Dolly Wakelee, 
Ted Owen. 



The living-room m the Terrills' country-house 
is a large, comfortable apartment, where dark 
woods. Oriental rugs and hangings, wide window- 
benches, and low, deep-seated chairs and divans, 
combine to give an air of restfulness and of famil- 
iar use. In the early dusk of a December afternoon 
blazing logs are supported by the old andirons in 
the fireplace, and the firelight dances across bits of 
brass, copper, and choice cloisonne, reveals rows of 
well-worn bindings in many low bookcases, blends 
into one white line the keys of the grand piano, and 
plays among the shadows of the Christmas gar- 
lands, holly wreaths, and mistletoe with which the 
room is hung. 

Joe TERMLii, genial, kindly, tender, but capable 
of determined tenacity of purpose, disposes his gen- 
erous length and avoirdupois as best he may at the 
top of a shaky step-ladder, while he suspends a 
branch of mistletoe from the top of a doorway lead- 
ing to the hall. Gladys, his wife, stands on an easy- 
chair near an opposite door, which leads to the din- 
ing-room, arranging vines over a picture-frame. 
She is of medium height, slender, graceful, impet- 
uous, with a musical voice and a quick and captivat- 
ing man/ner. 

[ 239 ] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

-* ^4r task is almost finished. One or two unused 
wreaths lie on a small table^ and the room is more or 
less in (disorder, 

GLADYS. 

What time is it, Joe? 

JOE (looking at his watch). 
Four iwenty-eight. 

GLADYS. 

Dolly's train is due in two minutes. I wonder if it 
will be on time ? 

JOE (his mouth full of tacks). 
Ted's is due in five. 

GLADYS. 
Dear old Ted ! I shall be so glad to see him ! He 
hasn't been here in — how long is it, Joe.? Three 
months ? 

JOE. 
Well, it's even longer than that since we've seen 
Dolly. 

GLADYS. 
I suppose she's been too busy preparing her trous- 
seau to make visits. She hasn't even written to me 
for weeks. She accepted this invitation by postal ! 
[240] 



A CHRISTMAS CHIME 
JOE {fumbling in his pockets). 

Oh, by Jove! Here's a letter that came for you 
yesterday and I forgot to give it to you. 

GLADYS. 

Oh, Joe, how could you ! 

JOE 

{contritely y scramblvng down from the ladder). 
I'm sorry, dear. It's from Dolly, too. 

GLADYS. 

From Dolly? I hope she hasn't decided not to 
come! {She takes the letter from him and hastily 
opens it. ) Not dated, of course ! Just like Dolly ! 
{Reads.) "Dear Gladys: Before I come to you, 
I think I'd better tell you — " Oh, she's coming, 
then! {She perches on an arm of the chair, her 
feet in the seat, and reads rapidly and indistinctly. 
Joe returns to his task.) "Save us all embarrass- 
ment — m-m-m-m — you understand — m-m-m-m — 
my engagement to Mr. Owen — " Joe! 

JOE. 

Well, what is it? (Gladys reads on rapidly, ignor- 
ing him.) Gladys! Gladys {impatiently, rejoin- 
[241 ] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

ing her), what's the matter? Can't you tell a fel- 
low? 

GLADYS 

(^tragically, lowei'ing the letter.) 

Joe Terrill, we're in the most awful scrape ! You 

must wire Ted not to come. (^She reads the letter 

again. ) 

JOE. 
Wire Ted not to come! Why, my dear girl, he's 
almost at the gate by this time ! 

GLADYS. 

I can't help that. He mustn't come ! 

JOE. 

Why mustn't he come? Isn't Dolly coming? 

GLADYS. 

That's just it! Dolly is coming! 

JOE. 

Well? 

GLADYS. 

Listen to this ! {Reads.) "Dear Gladys: Before 
I come to you, I think I'd better tell you something 
that will perhaps surprise you. It will save us all 
embarrassment if you and Joe understand before 
I arrive that my engagement to Mr. Owen has been 
[242] 



A CHRISTMAS CHIME 

broken off. Please do not question me, as I prefer 
not to talk about it, and I have nothing further to 
say except that this is final. I will never forgive 
him! Never! Yours, Doi^ly." 

JOE {slowly^ in consternation). 
By the great horn spoon ! What are we going to 
do? Didn't you tell Dolly that we had asked Ted 
to come, also.? 

GLADYS. 

Why — I don't remember what I said. No, of 
course I didn't ! If I had, she wouldn't be coming, 
would she.? 

JOE (impatiently). 
Just like a woman ! Can't even state plainly a sim- 
ple invitation to spend Christmas! 

GLADYS. 

Well, it hasn't been necessary to tell her anything 
about Ted's movements lately. She's known more 
about his plans than he has himself. 

JOE. 

I know ; but there's always danger of a situation like 
this. A little plain, business caution is never out 

of place. Now, if you had said 

[243] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

GLADYS (with spirit). 
Oh, well, there's no great danger, after all, for of 
course you told Ted that we had invited DcUy. 

JOE. 

Er — no — I — I wrote rather hastily, you know, 
and 



GLADYS (mischievously). 
Yes, but there's always danger of a situation like 
this, you know, and if you had used a little plain, 
business caution — ! Now, / make no claim to a 
knowledge of business methods, but certainly I have 
a right to expect that you could state plainly a 
simple invitation to spend Christmas. 

JOE (hotly). 
Now, see here, Gladys, it's all very well for you to 
sit up there and jeer, but a man has rather too 
many things on his mind to pay much attention 

to social 

GLADYS. 
Now, Joe, don't try to crawl out through that little 
aperture. You have done it often enough, I admit, 
to have worn an easy passage, even for your figure, 
but you must have learned, also, that it leads no- 
where. And as both Dolly and Ted will be here 
within ten minutes, we have something more press- 
[244] 



A CHRISTMAS CHIME 

ing to do than to sit here and revile each other. 
(She steps down from the chair and joins him.) 
The question before the house is, what are we going 
to do with them? 

JOE. 
There's only one thing to do. Dolly's the ag- 
gressor ; Dolly must go. 

GLADYS. 

It would be interesting to know how you make that 
out. 

JOE. 
Dolly broke the engagement. If she hadn't done 
that, there would have been no such situation ; ergo, 
Dolly is responsible and must bear the consequences. 

GLADYS. 

But if Dolly broke the engagement, it was because 
Ted was unendurable. 

JOE. 
Oh, I don't know. My knowledge of Dolly would 
lead me to suspect that it might have been because 
he wore a blue cravat, or because he said he liked 
terrapin. 

GLADYS. 
You never were fair to Dolly ! She's capricious ; I 

admit that frankly 

[ 245 ] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

JOE {drily). 
Thanks for the concession ! 

GLADYS. 

But she's not unjust, and if she found it necessary 
to break her engagement to Ted, it was because 

JOE. 

Now, see here, Gladys, Ted's a gentleman, isn't he.? 

GLADYS {'promptly). 
Yes. 

JOE. 
And an uncommonly thoughtful and unselfish fel- 
low, isn't he ^ 

GLADYS. 

Y-yes. 

JOE. 
And head over heels in love with Dolly, isn't he.? 

GLADYS. 

We-ell 

JOE. 

Honor, now, Gladys ! 

GLADYS. 

Oh, yes {impatiently), yes, I suppose so ! 
[ S46 ] 



A CHRISTMAS CHIME 

JOE. 

And Dolly is — well, call it capricious, isn't she? ^ 

GLADYS (reluctantly). 
Yes. 

JOE. 
And inclined to look with impartial favour on the 
sons of Adam.^^ 

GLADYS ( with spirit ) . 
Dolly is not a flirt ! 

JOE (mildly). 
Oh, isn't she? Well — I didn't say she was, did 1? '^ 

GLADYS. 

N-no, not exactly. 

JOE. 

And it stands to reason that if Dolly and Ted have 
had a few words and parted, it was not Ted's fault. 

GLADYS (resentfully). 
I never saw anything like the esprit du corps of you 
men! You'll quarrel bitterly among yourselves, 
but if it comes to a question of simple justice be- 
tween a man and a woman, you'll take it for granted 
that the man is right, without making the slightest 
[247] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

inquiry into the matter, and you'll stand by that 
man through thick and thin, right or wrong, to 
the bitter end, just because he is a man! 

JOE (coolly). 
Thanks. I'm glad to see that even in the heat of 
something approaching anger, you can still be just 
to us, and I regret that I cannot remember having 
found (with a deprecatory smile), in other mem- 
bers of your sex, the quality that you so generously 
attribute to mine. However, that's neither here nor 
there. As you said a few moments ago, we have no 
time to exchange compliments. We must decide 
what we are going to do. 

GLADYS (^looking out a window). 
Too late! There comes the carriage, and Dolly's 
in it ! 

JOE (looking out another window). 
And there cojnes Ted from the other station in the 
trap. 

GLADYS. 
Well, you'll have to explain to Ted 

JOE. 

I'll do nothing of the sort ! If there are to be any 
explanations, you'll make them — ^to Dolly. 
[ MS ] 



A CHRISTMAS CHIME 

GLADYS. 

Joe, I can't send Dolly away. She was my brides- 
maid. 

joii. 

You seem to have forgotten that Ted was my best 
man. 

GLADYS (almost in tears). 
If Ted stays, Dolly and I will have our meals served 
in our rooms. I will not have her subjected to his 
persecutions ! 

JOE (gravely). 
You will, of course, do as you think best, but I 
should feel it a serious affront if my wife refused 
to receive a guest whom I had invited to our 
house. (The door-bell rings.) 

GLADYS (nervously). 
There she is ! Oh, dear, what shall I do ? 

JOE. 

Once for all, Gladys, Ted stays ! (He removes step- 
ladder, etc.) 

Enter from the hall Dolly Wakelee, a small, im- 
pulsive, imperative young woman, whose fair 
hair curls softly over a pink-and-white blossom 
face, and whose merry mouth is surrounded by 
[249] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

twinkling dimples, the radiance of which is 
only faintly/ dimmed hy her somewhat pensive 
hearing. She is i/n travelling dress and wears 
furs. 

GLADYS (running to meet her). 
Oh, you dear thing ! 

DOLLY. 

Oh, Gladys ! 

GLADYS (kissing her). 
I thought your train would never come ! 

DOLLY. 

The old thing just poked! It stopped every time 
there was a board off the fence ! 

GLADYS 

(unfastening DoiiLY's wraps). 
Such ages since we've seen you ! 

DOLLY. 

Perfect aeons ! 

GLADYS. 

I'm so glad you could come ! You're such a popu- 
lar young person, we feared our invitation might 
be too late. 

JOE (in the background). 
Aren't you going to give me a chance to say a 
word to Dolly, Gladys ? 

[ 250 ] 



A CHRISTMAS CHIME 
GLADYS. 

Oh, of course! Joe's been so impatient for your 
arrival, Dolly ! He's looked at his watch every ten 
minutes for the last hour. 

DOLLY {shaking hands with Joe). 

Joe's good to me always. I'll never be able to tell 
you {pensively) what a relief it is to be down here 
to-day ! ( The door-hell rings, ) 

GLADYS 

(starting nsrvously and looking at Joe). 

Oh, we're delighted ! Simply delighted to have you 
here all to ourselves, you know. (She makes frantic 
signals to Joe, who is wilfully oh t use, to intercept 
Ted.) Katie took your bag, didn't she? Let's go 
right up to your room, where you can lay aside 
your wraps. 

JOE. 

Perhaps you'd better explain to Dolly before she 
takes off her things 

GLADYS. 

Oh, we shall have plenty of time for explanations 
and arrangements. 

[251] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

JOE. 

That other train goes in half an hour, you know. 

GLADYS 

(transfixi/ng him with a glare, but speaking 
lightly ) . 

Yes, I know ; but it's too cold to go out again. I'm 
sure Dolly's had all the drive that she wants to-day. 
You'd better send one of the men {with significant 
emphasis ) to the train with that letter. 

JOE. 

What letter.? 

GLADYS. 

The one that you expected Dolly and me to mail at 
the train, dearie! Come, Dolly ; we'll go this way 
— through the dining-room. 

TED {in the hall). 
In the living-room, Katie? All right; I know the 
way. 

DOLLY {pausing, startled). 
Whose voice is that.f^ 

GLADYS {hurriedly). 

That.f^ Oh, that's — ^that's a man who has come to 

see Joe about — about game. He's been trespass- 

[ 252 ] 



A CHRISTMAS CHIME 

ing. He won't be here long. Joe will send him 
away. Come, Dolly, come ! This way ! 

DOLLY (uncertainly). 
It sounded like 

GLADYS. 

Yes, yes, it sounded like — like a gentleman's voice, 
didn't it? He is a very superior sort of a tres- 
passer. Don't be too tender-hearted, Joe, and make 
him understand (meaningly) that this must not 
continue. 

(Exit Gladys, pushing Dolly before her to the 
dining-room. ) 

JOE. 

Whew! 

Enter from the hall Ted Owen, a franh, energetic, 
vigorous young fellow, whose naturally hearty 
manner is somewhat subdued by the weight of 
a heavy heart. 

JOE (cordially). 
Hello, old man! 

TED (shaking hands). 
Hello, Joe! 

JOE. 

I'm mighty glad you've come, old chap ! We were 

afraid you might have some other engagement. It 

[253] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

would have broken Gladys all up, you know. Act- 
ually, she's been trying to hurry the clock for three 
hours ! 

TED {nervously walking about). 
Thanks. Gladys is always good to me. You and 
she are the right sort. I — er — ^has she heard — 
that is — is she well ? 

JOE. 
Fine as a fiddle! 
^ TED. 

That's good ! I — er — have you had any — ^that is — 
many guests lately .? 

JOE. 

No, and we were saying just before you arrived 
that it was months since you'd, been here. 

TED. 

Yes. Er — Joe, old man, have you — have you any- 
thing to smoke.? 

JOE. 
I beg your pardon, Ted! Here {offers cigarette- 
case), or do you prefer a cigar .^^ 

TED. 

Oh, thanks ! ( Takes cigarette and absently thrusts 

it into his vest-pocket, to Joe's manifest amaze- 

[ 254 ] 



A CHRISTMAS CHIME 

ment.) I wonder — has Gladys heard from — that 
is — have you heard the latest news from China ? 

JOE. 

Still looks pretty squally, doesn't it? 

TED. 

Yes, and the worst of it is, she won't accept any 
explanation. 

JOE. 
Eh.? 

TED {groaning). 
Oh, by Jove, I hoped she'd told you about it ! 

JOE. 

Who.? 

TED. 

Dolly. 

JOE. 

(a sudden light of comprehension i/n his face). 

Oh! She has! Oh, yes, she has. Awfully sorry, 
old man ! ( They shake hands solemnly. ) 

TED. 

Does Gladys know.? 

JOE. 
Gladys knows. Oh, yes, Gladys knows! 
[ 255 ] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

TED {sighing). 
Oh, that's all right, then ! I dreaded to tell her, for 
she and — and Miss Wakelee are such friends, I 
feared 

JOE {with exaggerated cordiality). 
Surely you didn't think that Gladys would blame 
you? Youf Oh, come, now, Ted ! Gladys blame 
you? 

TED. 
Then she doesn't think ? 

JOE. 

Oh, no, she— that is — she — oh, here she comes! 
{Sighs deeply and wipes his brow.) 

Enter Gladys from the dining-room. 

GLADYS. 

Oh, here's Ted! How do you do? {She looks in- 
quiringly at Joe, who vigorously shakes his head.) 

TED. 

How do, Gladys ? It's very good of you to ask me 
down here to-day under the circumstances. I can't 
tell you how I appreciate it. 

GLADYS. 

Then Joe hasn't told you 

[256] 



A CHRISTMAS CHIME 

^'^"^ JOE {hastily). 

No, I haven't had time to tell him. The fact is, 
Ted, Gladys and I — er — Gladys and I — {sudden- 
ly) want you to spend every Christmas with us! 
We consider you quite one of the family, you know, 
and we simply won't take no for an answer ! Every 
Christmas, old man ! 

TED. 

Now, that's mighty good of you, Gladys ! That's 
what I call friendship! (Gladys perfunctorily 
smiles at him, hut her glance at Joe is thorny. ) 







JOE. 


Then you 


'11 do it? 


TED. 


You may 


count on 


me every time! 
JOE. 


Good! 




GLADYS. 


But this 


year, Ted- 





JOE {hastily). 

Yes, this year we should have been heart-broken — 

simply heart-broken, if you couldn't have come! 

By the way, you haven't seen our new team, have 

[257] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

you? Don't you want to go out to the stable and 
take a look at them? 



TED. 

Delighted. 

JOE. 

Come on, then ; Gladys will excuse us. (He hurries 
Ted into the hall, and pauses at the door, speaking 
cautiously to Gladys.) Have you told her? 

GLADYS (spiritedly). 
Indeed, I've not ! If you don't tell him soon, he'll 
miss his train. 

JOE. 

I intend that he shall miss it! (Eccit Joe.) 

(Gladys makes a little gesture of weariness and 
despair. ) 

Enter Dolly from dining-room. 

DOLLY. 

Where's Joe? I thought I heard his voice. 

GLADYS. 
He's gone out to the stable to see the new team. 
[ 258 ] 



A CHRISTMAS CHIME 

DOLLY (with enthusiasm). 
Oh, let's go, too ! I simply adore horses ! 

GLADYS. 

We'll go later — to-morrow, I mean. It's too cold 
now. 

DOLLY (strolling about). 
Do you mind cold ? I don't. 

GLADYS (shivering ostentatiously). 
Oh, yes, I can't stand it at all. 

DOLLY. 

How odd! (She approaches the window, and 
pauses, looking out.) Gladys, who's that with Joe.? 

GLADYS. 

With Joe! (She hurriedly draws Dolly away 
from the window.) Oh, it's just the man I told you 
about ; the horse man. 

DOLLY (trying to look out). 

The horse man? What horse man.? You didn't 
say anything about a horse man. 
[259] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

GLADYS. 

Why, yes, I did! The man who came to see Joe, 
you know. 

DOLLY. 

You didn't say a word about a horse man. If you 
had, I should have stayed. I adore horses. You 
said a trespasser. 

GLADYS. 

Did I? Oh, yes, of course! Well, he is a tres- 
passer. He's a horse man, and he's been letting his 
horses get into our field, and that (triumphantly/) is 
trespass, you know ! 

DOLLY. 

Oh! Well, what had that to do with game? 

GLADYS. 

Game.? 

DOLLY. 

Yes, you said something about game. 

GLADYS. 

Oh, no ! No, I didn't, Dolly. 

DOLLY (positively). 

You said that man had come to see Joe ^bcut game. 

[260] 



A CHRISTMAS CHIME 

GLADYS 

(disconcerted for an i/nstant). 
Oh, I — I — why, no, I didn't, Dolly; I said claim! 
Joe's claim — for damages, you know. C, 1, a, i, m, 
claim! 

DOLLY {eyeing her incredulously). 
Oh, did you ? ( Turns toward window. ) 

GLADYS {detaining her). 
Of course I did! What a dear little ring, Dolly! 
Where did you get it? 

DOLLY. 

Why, don't you remember? Ted — at least — Mr. 
Owen gave it to me, long before we were — that is, a 
long time ago. 

GLADYS. 

Why, Dolly ! Didn't you send back his gifts? 

DOLLY {indignantly). 
Certainly I did! But this little ring {pensively) 
was — different ! It was the first thing he ever gave 
me, and I promised him ( tremulously ) that no mat- 
ter what came, I would always wear it, so — so I 
had to keep my promise, you know. 
[261 ] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

GLADYS. 

Then this is just a tifF? 

DOLLY. 

Not at all ! This is the end of everything ! ( Trag- 
ically. ) Everything ! Why, Gladys, what do you 
suppose he did ? 

GLADYS. 

What did he do.? 

DOLLY. 

Well, you know that horrid little fox-terrier he's so 
fond of.? 

GLADYS. 

Blitzen ; yes. 

DOLLY. 

I heard him say, one day, that nothing but death 
should ever separate him from that dog, so — ^just 
for fun — I pretended to take a dislike to the beast, 
and asked him to give it away, and, Gladys, he re- 
fused — point-blank ! 

GLADYS. 

Of course he did ! 

DOLLY. 

Well, I don't see any "of course" about it ! I was 

only in fun at first, but after that, I thought I'd 

[ 262 ] 



A CHRISTMAS CHIME 

find out, once for all, which he cared most for, the 
dog or me, and — well, I found out ! And it wasn't 
me! 

GLADYS. 

Dolly Wakelee! You quarrelled with Ted and 
broke your engagement just because he wouldn't 
yield to a silly, selfish whim like that? 

DOLLY (with dignity). 

I broke my engagement because I have no intention 
of marrying a man who would hold me second to 
his dog ! If it had been his horse, I might have en- 
dured it — but his dog! {Under Gladys's disap- 
proving glance she grows resentful.) You don't 
mean to say that you would have submitted to such 
treatment ! 

GLADYS. 

When you've had a little more experience, Dolly, 
and know men better, you'll learn to appreciate 



DOLLY {pettishly). 

Oh, don't assume any matronly affectations with 
me, Gladys ! You're only two years my senior. 
And you know perfectly well {tearfully) that it 
was brutal of Ted ! Simply brutal ! Joe will un- 
derstand. {She weeps disconsolately.) 
[263] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

GLADYS. 

Joe will do nothing of the sort ! He'll tell you, as 
I do, that you're a very silly girl to let a thing like 
that separate you from a man like Ted Owen, and 
advise you to apologise at once, before it is too late. 

DOLLY. 

I apologise? To Ted? Not for anything in the 
world ! Not if he begged me on his bended knees. 

GLADYS {shortly). 

Well, he won't! Ted's not that sort. (Joe and 
Ted are heard talking outside.) Here come the 
men. Let's go upstairs. 



DOLLY {mutinously). 
No, let's don't ! I've hardly seen Joe at all. 

GLADYS 

' {regardvng her with critical deliberation). 

Well, if I were you, I should hardly want to see him 
in that plight. Your hair is mussed, and your eyes 

are swollen, and your nose is 

[ 264 ] 



A CHRISTMAS CHIME 

DOLLY (furiously). 
Gladys, you're simply horrid to-day! 

(Exit hurriedly to dvning-room, followed by 
Gladys.) 

(Enter Joe and Ted from hall, disputing.) 

TED. 

But I tell you it was simply a whim, and I wouldn't 
cast off a good dog for any woman's caprice. 

JOE. 
If you're going to be as stiff-necked as all that, 
you'd better get you to a monastery, where you 
won't have women to deal with! All charming 
women have whims — if they hadn't, they wouldn't 
be so charming — and any man ought to be glad to 
gratify them — when they're not too unreasonable. 

TED. 

But this was too unreasonable ! 

JOE. 

Pooh ! Nonsense ! I don't blame her in the least. 
Naturally, she wanted to think she was first in your 
affections. You should have encouraged her — 
diplomatically^instead of flying off the handle in 
that hot-headed fashion. 

[ 265 ] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

TED. 

I suppose I should have sent poor old Blitzen to the 
pound, too? 

JOE. 

Oh, stuff ! She didn't want you to send him to the 
pound ! She merely wanted to be sure that you 
would send him there, if she should ask it. Now, 
you go and apologise at once, before it's too late. 

TED. 

1? Apologise.^ Not much! 

JOE. 

Now, don't be a donkey, Ted ! 

TED (stiffly). 
1 do apologise to you, however. I have evidently 
made a grave mistake. I came down here under the 
impression that I was coming to friends who would 
understand my position and sympathise with my 
point of view. I still hope that Gladys will 

JOE. 

Gladys will tell you, as I do, that you're making a 
blooming idiot of yourself, and that you'd better 
make your peace while you can. 
[266] 



A CHRISTMAS CHIME 

TED. 

Since you entirely fail to grasp the situation, you 
will pardon me if I do not heed your advice ! 

{Exit stiffly to hall.) 

Enter Gladys from dining-room. 

GLADYS. 

Well, of all the silly performances ! 

JOE. 

What's the matter now.^^ 

GLADYS. 

Dolly has just told me the story of the quarrel, 

JOE. 

Sheer idiocy, isn't it ? 

GLADYS. 

You know? 

JOE. 

Yes, Ted told me. 

GLADYS. 

So foolish ! 

JOE. 
Absolutely senseless! 

[ 267 ] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

GLADYS. 

And selfish! 

JOE. 
That's what I told him. 

GLADYS. 

I wouldn't have believed it possible. 

JOE. 

I hope you told her what you thought of it. 

GLADYS. 

I did that! 

JOE. 

Ted's in a towering rage with me. 

GLADYS. 

Ted in a rage ? What about ? 

JOE. 

Because I told him plainly that he was an ass, and 
advised him to go and make his peace on any terms, 
as soon as she'd let him. 

GLADYS. 

Advised him to^ — Joe Terrill! You sympathise 
with her? 

[268] 



A CHRISTMAS CHIME 

JOE. 

Of course I do ! Who wouldn't ? 

GLADYS. 

Well, I wouldn't! 

JOE. 

You don't mean to say that you think there's any 
sense in his attitude ! 

GLADYS. 

I think he was entirely right. Why should he sac- 
rifice his dear old dog just to satisfy a silly, vain 
little impulse of hers? 

JOE. 

On the contrary, if he can't yield gracefully to a 
trifling little request like that, he'd better not hope 
to make her happy. 

GLADYS. 

But it's so senseless ! If she had any earthly reason 
for it 

JOE. 
She had her own reason, probably ; and if a man's 
going to stop to find a reason that appeals to him 
for everything a woman asks of him, he'd better re- 
main a bachelor ! Dolly has her caprices, of course, 
but she's very sweet about them. 

[269] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

GLADYS. 

Oh, you men ! A pretty, insipid face, with a dimple 
or two in it, will make putty of the best of you! 
I'd like to find a man who could be true to a friend, 
no matter how many pink cheeks beguiled ! 

JOE. 

When you find him, he'll be the husband of a consist- 
ent woman. 

GLADYS. 

Oh, of course ! You change your mind ; I'm incon- 
sistent ! But I want to know what we're going to 
do with them. Here they are, both under our roof, 
and the last train's gone. You may humour Dolly 
if you like, but I refuse to be a party to any of her 
nonsense, and I shall see that Ted's not slighted, at 
any rate. 

JOE. 
My dear girl, Ted's a man and can take care of 
himself. He has the stable and the grounds and the 
billiard-room at his disposal, and a little time for 
uninterrupted reflection will be salutary in his pres- 
ent frame of mind ; but Dolly, poor little girl, is in 
trouble and needs your sympathy. 

GLADYS. 

Well, she hasn't aroused it to any appreciable ex- 
tent, as yet ! 

[270] 



A CHRISTMAS CHIME 

JOE (persuasively). 
Gladys, you mustn't neglect Dolly. It wouldn't be 
decent. She's your guest. 

GLADYS (obstinately). 
So is Ted. 

Enter Dolly, hastily, from the hall, carrying a 
man's hat. 

DOLLY (tragically). 
Whose hat is this ? 

JOE. 
That? Oh, that — that's mine, you know. 

DOLLY (sarcastically). 
And those are your initials, are they? T. J. O. 
stands for Joseph Corbin Terrill, I suppose? 

JOE. 

Oh, T. J. — oh, yes, that's — that's Ted's hat, you 
know. 

DOLLY. 
And he is here ? 

JOE 
(lookvng vmplori/ngly at Gladys, who is stonily 

silent). 
Why — er — ^that is — yes, he's here, Dolly, but you 
needn't see him. 

[271] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

DOLLY (to Gladys). 
And this is what you asked me down here for — ^to 
confront me with this man, and subject me to this 
humihation! I suppose you thought you could 
force me to 

JOE (soothingly). 
No, no, Dolly ! Really, we didn't know 



DOLLY (wrathfully). 
Oh, no, of course you didn't know ! I hadn't writ- 
ten to Gladys, explaining it all ! 

JOE. 

But you see, I 

DOLLY. 

Oh, this is unendurable! Unfortunately, the last 
train has gone, but I will remain in my room until 
there is an opportunity to get away, and I shall be 
grateful for the privilege of remaining there — 
alone! (Eocit to dining-room.) 

GLADYS. 

There ! You see how sweet and reasonable she is ! 

Enter Ted from hall, carrying a lady\ handker- 
chief. 
[ 272 ] 



A CHRISTMAS CHIME 

TED (sternly).. 
Whose handkerchief is this? 



GLADYS (smiling confidently). 
That? Oh, that — that's mine, you know. 

TED 

(displaying embroidered i/nitials in the comer). 
D. W. stands for Gladys Terrill, does it? 

GLADYS. 

Oh, well, maybe it is Dolly's. She may have left it 
here. 

TED. 

I found it in the hall just now, and I caught a 
glimpse of flying petticoats at the same time. Is 
she here? In this house? 

GLADYS (laughing nervously). 
Why — what a singular notion, Ted! (She looks 
pleadingly at Joe, who regards her with a sardonic 
smile. ) 

TED. 
Do me the honour to tell me the truth, if you please. 
Is she here? 

[ 273 ] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

GLADYS (weaUy). 
Y-yes, but 

TED (angrily to Joe). 
And this is the reason for your sudden invitation 
to spend Christmas with you, is it? You thought 
you'd get me down here where your roof would 
prove an obligation, and where the lack of trans- 
portation facilities would prevent flight, and force 
me to adopt the course you had laid out for me ! 

JOE (wearily). 
My dear fellow, we didn't 

TED. 

A very pretty scheme, but you forgot one little de- 
tail. "One man may lead a pony to the brink, but 
twenty thousand cannot make him drink !" Unfor- 
tunately, circumstances compel me to accept your 
hospitality for a few hours longer, but I shall en- 
deavour to encroach upon your other guests as little 
as possible. (Eouit Ted to hall.) 

JOE (mildly). 
Amiable young man! What girl could refuse an 
invitation to live with that temper ? So gentle ! So 
considerate ! So just ! 

[ S74 ] 



A CHRISTMAS CHIME 

GLADYS. 

Well, it's all your fault, anyway! If you had 
given me that letter when it arrived, we might have 
been spared all this ! 

JOE. 

If you'd take a firm stand with Ted, it would all 
smooth out now. 

GLADYS. 

You try taking a firm stand with Dolly. 

JOE. 

Don't want to. Dolly's all right. 

GLADYS. 

Oh, of course ! Dolly's young and pretty — and she 
has dimples — so it's not of the least consequence 
that she has neither right nor reason on her side! 
That's what it is to belong to the logical sex ! 

JOE. 

But you see, Dolly is 

GLADYS. 

Oh, yes, Dolly's this and Dolly's that ! One would 
think, to hear you, that you were more than half in 
love with Dolly yourself ! It's to be regretted that 
you didn't marry a woman of that type ! 
[275] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

JOE (in exasperation). 
I did! 

GLADYS (incredulously). 
What? 

JOE (doggedly/). 
I did. 

GLADYS. 

Joseph Terrill ! I have forgiven you many things, 
but this is the last straw ! I will never forgive you ! 
Never! Moreover, I will have no further connec- 
tion with this affair. I will go to my room and re- 
main there until 2^our friend. Miss Wakelee, has de- 
parted! (Exit Gladys, furiously, to hall.) 

JOE. 

Whew! "Hark, the herald angels sing!" (Sits, his 
elbows on his knees, and clasps his head in his 
hands, ) And this is Christmas Eve ! 

Enter Ted from hall. 

TED. 

I can't find my hat. Did I leave it 



Enter Dolly from dining-room. 

DOLLY. 

Oh, Joe, did I leave my handkerchief 

[ 216 ] 



A CHRISTMAS CHIME 

JOE 

(as his guests stare at each other). 
Oh, Lord! (Exit Joe, precipitately.) 

> TED (awkwardly). 
Oh — er — how de do? 

DOLLY (nervously). 
Good morn — afternoon. 

TED. 

Er — nice day. (Pause.) You — er — you came 
down to spend Christmas.? 







DOLLY. 


Yes. 




TED. 


So did I. 




DOLLY. 


Ah? 




TED. 


You don't mind? 








DOLLY. 


Mind! 




TED. 


Yes, you- 


— perhaps 


you'd rather I hadn't come? 
[277] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 
DOLLY (coldly). 
Well — you're here now, you know. 

TED (dejectedly). 
Yes, so I am ! 

DOLLY (suggestively). 
And — I'm here, too. 

TED (brightening). 
That's so ! 

DOLLY (nervously, after a pause). 
How — how's Blitzen.'^ 

TED (gruffly). 
Blitzen's all right! 

DOLLY. 

I wish — I wish I had a — a dog. 

TED (eagerly). 
What kind of a dog? 

DOLLY (archly). 

I — I think I'd like a — a fox-terrier. 
[278] 



A CHRISTMAS CHIME 

TED. 

Dolly! 

Enter Joe from hall, 

JOE 

{hastily interposmg himself between Dolly and 
Ted). 

Oh, by Jove! Dolly, let's go and take a walk. 
Wouldn't you like to take a walk ? (Ted looks anx- 
ious. ) 

DOLLY. 
No, thanks, not to-night. (Ted looks relieved,) 

JOE. 

Don't you want to go to the stable to see the new 
team? You're so fond of horses. (Ted fidgets.) 

DOLLY. 

I? I hate horses ! (Joe looks bewildered and Ted 
smiles ecstatically. ) 

Enter Gladys from hall. 

GLADYS {in dismay). 

Oh, good gracious! {She goes hastily to a small 

table and takes up a wreath.) Ted, will you help 

[279] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

me put up this wreath? We haven't quite Snished 
decorating. 

TED 

(^glancing wistfully at Dolly). 
With pleasure. {He joins her, while Joe engages 
Dolly in conversation.) 

GLADYS. 

Thanks so much! {Quietly to him.) Poor old 
Ted ! I'm so sorry about this wretched affair ! But 
you may depend upon me to do all I can to help 
you. 

TED. 
I'm sure of that, Gladys. ( They continue their con- 
versation, trying the wreath in various positions. ) 

JOE {sympathetically to Dolly). 
This is pretty hard on you, little girl, but you may 
count on me to help you through anything! I'll 
do all I can to make it easier for you. (Dolly calls 
out all her dimples. ) 

GLADYS {hammer in hand). 
Why, of course I can drive a nail ! No, I'm going 
to do it, now, just to show you — {She pounds her 
finger and drops the hammer with a wail of pain.) 
Oh, Joe ! 

[ S80 ] 



A CHRISTMAS CHIME 

JOE (running to her). 
What's the matter, dearie? Did jou hurt it much? 
Let me see. (After a perfunctory glance at the 
injured finger, Ted hastens to Dolly.) 

TED (impulsively). 
Dolly, do you mean that I may give Blitzen to you ? 
(Dolly turns away from him, tremulously smil- 
ing.) Do you, Dolly? 

DOLLY (faltering). 
Would you give him to me, Ted? 

TED (very tenderly). 
You know I would ! Will you take him, dear? 

DOLLY 

(between laughter and tears). 
Why, you dear old dunce, that was what I wanted 
you to do all the time ! ( Ted seizes her hands and, 
after one glance toward Joe and Gladys, hisses 
them rapturously. Joe, looking up just in time 
to see it, attracts Gladys's attention, and they stand 
hand in hand, nodding and smiling at the younger 
couple. ) 

Curtain. 
[281 ] 



THE COMMITTEE ON 
MA TRIMONY 



THE COMMITTEE ON 
MATRIMONY 

A Comedy in One Act 

CHARACTERS 

Phyllis Arlington. 
Robert Chalmers. 



A richly furnished, if somewhat conventional, 
drawing-room serves as a background. Pictures, 
hangings, rugs, bric-a-brac, books, all indicate that 
taste and discretion have been exercised in their se- 
lection, but it is evident, also, that the family life is 
lived elsewhere, and that this room, like certain ta- 
bles in boarding-house dining-rooms, is reserved for 
transient guests. The chill impression given by the 
careful exactness of every detail is somewhat modi- 
fied, however, by the cheery crackle of a wood fire, 
and by the shaded lights, whose rays soften, even 
while they illumine, the mathematical 'precision of 
the room. 

Phyllis Arlington, a slender, supple girl, whose 
dreamy grey eyes, sensitive nostrils, and softly 
moulded chin bespeak an impressionable nature — 
an indication somewhat contradicted, it is true, by 
the firmness of her lips — sits near a table on the left, 
occasionally taking a few stitches in the embroidery 
which lies, for the most part, in her lap. The lamp- 
light, filtering through a daffodil shade, falls upon 
her white-wool gown and adds a glint to her fair 
hair, which is neither bright enough to be golden 
nor dark enough to be brown. 

To Robert Chalmers, a vigorous, resolute, 
[285] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

practical young fellow who lounges among the pil- 
lows of a divan on the right, she seems a delectable 
vision, and his eyes pay constant, eager homage, the 
while his slower lips temporise to suit her mood. 

PHYLLIS {continuing an argument). 
Well, Kipling may be all that you say, but to me he 
seems deplorably lacking in delicacy and idealism. 

ROBERT. 

I fancy that life in India may not be conducive to 
the development of either of those qualities; but 
he's keen and direct, with an apparently inexhausti- 
ble fund of humour and a command of the English 
language that is simply marvellous ! Moreover, he 
never goes into mawkish, morbid analysis of the 
commonplace, nor does he write unhealthy books 
which — to use his own words — "deal with people's 
insides from the point of view of men who have no 
stomachs." 

PHYLLIS (laughing). 
Rob ! You quote Kipling as other people quote the 
Bible, and you have an appropriate text for any 
occasion. 

ROBERT 
{taking a booh from a small table near him). 
Well, one can't open one of his books without find- 
ing something worth reading. Listen to this, for 
[ 286 ] 



THE COMMITTEE ON MATRIMONY 

instance. (Reads.) "How can a man who has 
never married ; who cannot be trusted to pick up at 
sight a moderately sound horse; whose head is hot 
and upset with visions of domestic felicity, go about 
the choosing of a wife? He cannot see straight or 
think straight if he tries; and the same disadvan- 
tages exist in the case of a girl's fancies. But when 
mature, married, and discreet people arrange a 
match between a boy and a girl, they do it with a 
view to the future, and the young couple live 
happily ever afterward. As everybody knows." 
(Laughs.) What a jolly, sarcastic beggar he is ! 

PHYLLIS. 

Does that impress you as being sarcasm ? 

ROBERT 

(lowering the book to stare at her). 
Great Scott! Does that impress me as being sar- 
casm! What else could it he? 

PHYLLIS. 

Well, I know one can't be too certain of Kipling's 
opinions, but at any rate, he might mean that. 
Many people would agree with him. 

ROBERT 

(returning to the perusal of his booh). 
Humph ! 

[287] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

PHYLLIS. 

Now, for instance, that has been for a long time a 
favourite theory of mine, and if the day ever comes 
when I care enough for a man to want to marry him 
I shall refer the matter to a committee of our friends 
and abide by their decision. 

ROBERT 

{hotly, throwing the hook aside). 
Do you mean to say that if you loved a man you 
would permit any one else to decide for you whether 
or not you should marry him.^^ 

PHYLLIS {calmly). 
I mean precisely that. I should deem myself prej- 
udiced and consequently unfit to decide so important 
a question. 

ROBERT 
{leaning forward and speaking argumentatively) . 
But, Phyllis, can't you see how absurd it is.? The 
idea of expecting — or permitting — any one else to 
decide for you a question that concerns you so vi- 
tally — a matter so purely personal. 

PHYLLIS {very earnestly). 
That's just the point! It does concern me so vi- 
tally that I can't be expected to look at it from a 
[ 288 ] 



THE COMMITTEE ON MATRIMONY 

rational point of view. I am too near it ; I have no 
perspective. And I'm surprised to hear you speak 
of marriage as purely a personal matter, Rob. 

ROBERT. 

But no one else can know your heart, so how 



PHYLLIS {quickly). 
For that very reason, anybody else's judgment 
would be better than mine. What right have two 
people to say : "Because we love each other we will 
marry, be the consequences what they may" ? That 
kind of love has been well defined as "an egotism of 
two." 

ROBERT {rising impatiently). 
And in its place you would establish an intellectual 
companionship which, after it has been investi- 
gated and approved by your cold-blooded commit- 
tee, you will allow to expand — perhaps — into a 
calm affection. Cupid with a microscope! {He 
goes to the fireplace and stands impatiently rubbi/ng 
his hands before the blaze.) 

PHYLLIS 

{resignedly resuming her embroidery). 

Indeed, you misunderstand me ! But Mrs. Treavor 

says that in questions relating to marriage, people 

[289] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

think far too much of their own selfish desires, and 
far too little of the eflPect of their indulgence upon 
Humanity. 

ROBERT {drily). 
Did Mrs. Treavor marry to benefit humanity? 

PHYLLIS {sadly). 

No; and she has realised her mistake and suffered 
bitterly for it. 

ROBERT 
{somewhat quizzically, turning toward her). 
Did she tell you that, too.? 

PHYLLIS. 

Oh, no! How can you be so unfair to her, Rob.f^ 
But one who knows her well can see how bravely she 
struggles to make the most of what life has left 
possible for her. 

ROBERT 

{standing with his bach to the ^replace, hands he- 
hind him). 

Well, it's left a good deal. Joe Treavor is one of 
the straightest, manliest fellows I know. 

PHYLLIS {impatiently). 
Oh, yes, I dare say — from a man's point of view! 

But so lacking in perception, in — in 

[ 290 ] 



THE COMMITTEE ON MATRIMONY 

ROBERT (bluntly). 
Well, in what? 

PHYLLIS. 
Oh, in everything that a woman like Mrs. Treavor 
needs ! 

ROBERT. 
Why, then, did she marry him? 

PHYLLIS (triumphantly). 

That's just it! She loved him — and idealised him 
— and so, of course, she couldn't see that he was of 
too coarse a fibre to satisfy her soul's needs. 

ROBERT (returning to the divan). 
Her soul fiddlesticks ! 

PHYLLIS (indignantly). 
Rob ! If you only knew Mrs. Treavor, you'd un- 
derstand how fine and strong and womanly she is, 
and what a perpetual sacrifice her life has been. 

ROBERT 

(taking up his book again). 
Perhaps I should; and yet — I'm only a man, you 
know. 

PHYLLIS (quickly). 

Yes, but such a (She stops, in confusion.) 

[291] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

ROBERT 

(again throwing book aside and going toward her 
eagerly). 

Yes? You were about to say ? 

PHYLLIS {shyly). 
You're so diif erent from other men ! So reasonable 
— so much more sympathetic — so — so — oh, you 
know! 

ROBERT 

{standing behind her chair). 
PhyUis, am I different enough to — to 

PHYLLIS 

{with an effort, faintly). 

To what, Rob? 

ROBERT {bending over her). 
To win you, dear ? I love you, Phyllis ! I know I'm 
not a poet and I don't understand lots of your theo- 
ries, but — I love you! (Phyllis hides her face 
from him. After a pause, he almost whispers:) 
Phyllis! 

PHYLLIS. 
Yes? '■ ■ 

ROBERT {tenderly). 
Are you offended? Why don't you answer me? 
[ S92 ] 



THE COMMITTEE ON MATRIMONY 

PHYLLIS (archly). 
Did you ask anything o? 

ROBERT 

(eagerly talcing her hand). 
Don't trifle, dear ! I ask everything ! Your love — 
and you ! Do you love me, Phyllis ? A little ? 

PHYLLIS {softly). 
Yes — a little. 

ROBERT. 

Phyllis! (He tries to 'put his arms about her, hut 
she springs up and eludes him.) Really — really, 
you love me.? 

PHYLLIS 

(keeping a chair between them). 
Really, really, I — love you ! (He moves around the 
chair and she retreats behind the divan, saying 
hastily:) But you must behave very well if you ex- 
pect me to continue to do so. For example ( he ad- 
vances; she backs away), you must not be — greedy ! 

ROBERT 

(at right of divan, protesti/ngly). 
But, dearest ! 

[ 293 ] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

PHYLLIS 

(at left of divan, teasmgly), 
WeU — dearest? 

ROBERT {pleadingly). 
Phyllis, dear, don't tease — now! 

PHYLLIS. 

Very well ; I'll be as serious as you choose, if you'll 

promise 

ROBERT. 
Yes.? 

PHYLLIS. 
To treat me as a prisoner of war and not as — o. tar- 
get! 

ROBERT {reproachfully), 
A prisoner .? 

PHYLLIS {very sweetly). 
Have I not surrendered? {He moves quickly tow- 
ard her, hut as she withdraws he steps bach.) 

ROBERT. 

Very well ; I promise. Come out from behind your 
fortifications. {She sits on the divan.) 

PHYLLIS 

{pensively, after a pause), 
I wonder what Mrs. Treavor will say.? 
[294] 



THE COMMITTEE ON MATRIMONY 

ROBERT (ardently). 
What matter ? I'm content to know what you have 
said. (He draws a chair very near Tier and sits.) 
Phyllis (persuasively), when will you marry me? 

PHYLLIS (in alarm). 
Marry you ! Oh — why — let's not talk about that ! 

ROBERT. 

Phyllis ! What do you mean ? 

PHYLLIS (breathlessly). 
Why — you know — there's something to — to con- 
sider first. 

ROBERT (bewildered). 
Why, what ? What is there ? Is anybody's consent 
required.'' We're orphans, and of age. 

PHYLLIS. 

Yes, but I wonder if — if they — will let us — marry ? 

ROBERT (still puzzled). 
They.? Who in thunder are "they".? 

PHYLLIS. 

Why, my friends, you know, to whom I must sub- 
mit the matter. 

[ 295 ] 



r" 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 
ROBERT (relieved). 

Oh, your people! Why, of course they will! I 
suppose I must ask your uncle, as a matter of form, 
for your hand, but that'll be all right ! Both he and 
your aunt know that I love you, and they've been 
very kind to me. 

PHYLLIS. 

Oh, Uncle Jerry ! Of course he won't object ! And 
if he did, I could coax him out of it in five minutes. 
Ah! Ah! (She holds up a warning hand as he 
moves impulsively toward her and slips away to the 
farther end of the divan. He sits beside her. ) And 
Auntie would agree with Uncle Jerry. She always 
does. 

ROBERT. 

Well, then, who else is there whom we must consult.? 

PHYLLIS (faintly). 
The — the committee. 

ROBERT. 

The committee ! What committee ? Surely, Phyllis, 
you don't intend — you canH intend to refer this 
matter to — oh, pshaw ! Of course you don't ! 
[296] 



THE COMMITTEE ON MATRIMONY 
PHYLLIS (more firmly). 

But I do, Rob! I must! Don't you see? We're 
in no position to judge whether our marriage would 
be best for us — best for Humanity. 

ROBERT. 

Why aren't we ? 

PHYLLIS. 

Because we love each other. (As lie tries to clasp 
her in his arms, she shrinks from him.) No, no, 
Rob ! You mustn't ! Indeed, you mustn't, until — 
until we are certain. 

ROBERT (gravely). 
Aren't you certain now, Phyllis .^^ 

PHYLLIS. 

That I care, yes — but not that I dare marry you. 
Our judgment is so warped now by our love for 
each other that it's impossible for us to be entirely 
rational. (She rises, spealdng impressively.) But 
so much depends upon the wise solution of this prob- 
lem, not only for us but for society, that we must in- 
voke the aid of earnest, serious minds, and rely ab- 
solutely upon their conclusions. 
[297] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE. 

ROBERT (quietly, rising also). 
Far be it from me to question the wisdom of the 
East, but it will be some years, I fancy, before that 
eminently Oriental idea takes root and flourishes in 
the Occidental mind. Why, Phyllis, that's the phi- 
losophy of India, where happy marriages, as we 
understand them, are absolutely unknown. 

PHYLLIS (reverently). 
Mrs. Treavor says that no one can estimate the 
psychic influence of the Home. Its potentiality is 
limitless ; its consequences so far-reaching as to be 
incalculable; and if the elements combining in its 
atmosphere are not well balanced, only evil can re- 
sult. 

ROBERT. 

But, Phyllis, dear 

PHYLLIS. 

She says, too, that only by awakening the cosmic 
consciousness in man, and a sense of his personal 
relation to all mental causation, can we hope to es- 
tablish ideal conditions and become quite free. And 
so we must enter reverently into the realm of cause 
and abide by its laws, Rob. 

ROBERT (pacing to and fro). 
How are you going to ascertain all this, Phyllis ? 
[298] 



THE COMMITTEE ON MATRIMONY 

PHYLLIS {somewhat reluctantly). 
Well, I suppose one never can be absolutely certain, 
but {resuming her seat on the divan) we must do 
all we can to find out, mustn't we, Rob ? 

ROBERT. 

Oh, I suppose we must ! But 



PHYLLIS. 

Just a moment, please. We'll name a committee — 
two of my friends and two of yours — and they will 
select a fifth person (Robert dubiously shakes his 
head), and then we shall let them decide for us 
whether or not we are really suited to each other and 
may marry with reasonable safety. 

ROBERT 

{sitti/ng beside her and taking her hand). 
See here, Phyllis, listen to me. You're talking non- 
sense, dear. No one could decide that as well as we 
can. {She vainly tries to withdraw her hand. He 
continues earnestly.) You know me well. I have 
loved you for years, and I have kept nothing back 
from you that could influence your love for me. 
You don't doubt that I love you, do you ^ Do you, 
Phyllis? 

PHYLLIS. 
No. 

[299] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

ROBERT. 

Nor my ability to care for you ? 

PHYLLIS. 

Oh, no! 

ROBERT. 

Then why tantalise me? Say that you'll marry 
me — soon ! 

PHYLLIS 

{rising, almost crying, and pulling her hand away). 
I can't Rob ! I can't ! It wouldn't be right ! 

ROBERT {mry gravely). 
You insist upon appointing this absurd committee? 
Upon laying bare the sweetest, most sacred feeling 
in our lives, and inviting those people to dissect it, 
examine it, and pronounce upon its quality ? 

PHYLLIS {obstinately), 
I do! 

ROBERT (rising). 

Evidently I have laboured under a grave misappre- 
hension. I gathered the impression, somehow, that 
you cared for me — that you might even love me. 

PHYLLIS (piteously). 
Oh, I do! I do! 

[300] 



THE COMMITTEE ON MATRIMONY 

ROBERT. 

Then why in the name of all that's reasonable — 



PHYLLIS. 
Mrs. Treavor says 

ROBERT. 
Hang Mrs. Treavor ! 

PHYLLIS (rising), 
Robert! 

ROBERT {bowing stiffly), 
I beg your pardon. 

PHYLLIS (with dignity). 
Mrs. Treavor says that our hearts are dangerously 
deceptive, and that it's only after we have suffered 
and suffered that we dare trust to their impulses. 

ROBERT. 

And so you are making me "suffer and suffer" that 
you may be certain of me. Is that it? 

PHYLLIS (simply). 

No, dear. But I know so little of sorrow — my life 

has been so smooth and so happy — and we have been 

[ 301 ] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

so — so happy — together — that I can't trust my- 
self. And I must know that I'm doing you no 
wrong before I promise to marry you. 

ROBERT 

{stepping quichly to her side and taking her 
hands). 

Dear little woman, how could you do me a wrong? 

PHYLLIS {gently). 

You don't seem to understand, Rob, that there are 
very grave ethical responsibilities to consider. And 
then, we've said nothing yet of the effect of the 
subconscious mind which, when it is untrained as 
{hesitatingly) — as yours is, dear — may exert a 
very baleful influence. Some one has said that there 
are a great many very excellent people who are not 
at all excellent for each other, and we may be among 
them. 

ROBERT {positively). 

Well, we're not ! However, I suppose I must sub- 
mit, though I think it's arrant nonsense — and worse. 
It's sacrilegious ! 

PHYLLIS. 

Oh, Rob! 

[ 302 ] 



THE COMMITTEE ON MATRIMONY 

ROBERT. 

But we'll be even that, if it pleaseth my lady. 
Come, we'll sit here and select our committee (she 
permits herself to be led to the divan, where they 
sit) ; and — oh, I say! You must let me keep pos- 
session of that hand, you know, as a sort of — er — 
retaining fee, to quiet my scruples about this jury 
business. So ! Now, you begin. 

PHYLLIS. 

I'll name one, and then you name one. 

ROBERT {hissing her hand). 
All right. Fire away ! 

PHYLLIS. 
Mrs. Treavor. 

ROBERT (protestingly). 
Now, see here, Phyllis, that's hardly fair! Mrs. 
Treavor belongs to the ultra-anti-masculine wing 
of the woman movement, and opposes marriage on 
principle. She is, no doubt, an excellent woman, 
but 

PHYLLIS (fervently). 
She's a noble woman, Rob, with such profound 
soul-depth ! 

[303] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

ROBERT. 

H'm ! Well — I'm not so sure about the soul-depth, 
girlie. She doesn't seem to have soul-depth enough 
to appreciate her husband, who is one of the finest, 
cleanest, most all-round good fellows I've ever 
known — and I know him well. She doesn't seem to 
have soul-depth enough to realise that that puny, 
spindle-legged boy of hers needs more of her atten- 
tion than her clubs and classes. She doesn't seem to 
feel (Robert warms as he proceeds, and Phyllis 
withdrams her hand) that her husband and son are 
freezing to death in the extremely rarefied atmos- 
phere of the home that she ought to make warm and 
cheery and wholesome, while she floats about in a 
transcendental haze, lecturing to a lot of senti- 
mental women (Phyllis indignantly rises and 
crosses to the other side of the room) about how to 
satisfy the "soul hunger" of humanity — ^humanity 
with a capital H! 

PHYLLIS {coldly). 
I knew that you couldn't be just to Mrs. Treavor, 
Rob, but I didn't expect you to be brutal. She is 
my dearest friend; the woman upon whose judg- 
ment I most rely. 

ROBERT 

{springing up and excitedly pacing to and fro). 

Yes, and she's the woman who's responsible for all 

[ 304 ] 



THE COMMITTEE ON MATRIMONY 

this foolishness ! She fancies herself misunderstood 
and unappreciated, and prates about her wasted 
life; she inveighs against men and against mar- 
riage, and teaches good, sweet, sensible girls like 
you to believe that you can't trust to the prompt- 
ings of your own pure hearts 

PHYLLIS. 

But, Rob, list 

ROBERT. 

And that there's something in her hazy, remote, 
bloodless philosophy that will atone to you for the 
sacrifice of your sacred human yearning for love 
and all that it brings to a woman ! I know her 
kind, confound 'em, and they're all dangerous! 

PHYLLIS 

(with freezmg dignity). 
You forget yourself, Robert ! We are not discuss- 
ing Mrs. Treavor. She is my choice for one mem- 
ber of our committee. (She crosses the room with 
stately tread.) 

ROBERT 

(pausing in his walk for a moment). 
You will not withdraw her name, Phyllis? 
[ 305 ] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

PHYLLIS (coldly). 

Certainly not. 

(She returns to the seat she first occupied, near the 
lamp, and makes a pretence of continuing her 
embroidery, hut her glance furtively follows 
him. He resumes his impatient walk. Of a 
sudden he pauses behind her chair, his eyes 
widen and brighten with an illuminating 
thought; he puckers up his lips as if to whistle, 
throws back his head in a silent laugh, and 
then, again reducing his features to gravity, 
crosses slowly to the divan and throws himself 
once more among its pillows. ) 

ROBERT (deliberately). 
Very well, I accept Mrs. Treavor — though I don't 
like her (Phylms prepares to be affable again), 
and I'll name — er — ^let me see — Duncan Graham! 

PHYLLIS (in consternation). 
Rob! 

ROBERT 
(in a tone of mild surprise). 
Well.? 

PHYLLIS (indignantly). 
That crusty old bachelor ? 

ROBERT (judicially). 
Why not? Man of excellent judgment, Graham. 
Scotch, you know. So cool and hard-headed. 
[306] 



THE COMMITTEE ON MATRIMONY 

PHYLLIS. 

Pig-headed, you mean! 

ROBERT. 

And eminently modern, I should say. 

PHYLLIS (with heat). 
Yes, too modern ! He seems to regard married men 
as victims of untoward circumstance, and he con- 
gratulates engaged girls! Horrid old thing! 

ROBERT (with quiet dignity). 
Phyllis, you are speaking of a man for whom I 
have the greatest admiration. 

PHYLLIS 

(very erect, two bright spots of colour burning i/n 

her cheeks). 
1 don't care ! He is horrid ! Why, Rob, he'll make 
no end of a fuss ! 

ROBERT. 
A fuss? 

PHYLLIS. 

Yes ; he'll be sure to raise a lot of objections. He 
thought Will Forbes was so foolish to marry Mollie 
Turner, and she's such a sweet, dear girl, too! 
[307] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

ROBERT (with amusement). 

Yes, I know. He even tried to argue Forbes out 
of the notion, and when he failed he said that the 
worst of congenital idiocy was its hopelessness. 

PHYLLIS {indignantly). 

I don't see anything funny about that ! I suppose 
he'll go about saying that you're a congenital idiot, 
too! He told me at the Terry's dinner the other 
night that he thought you had a great future be- 
fore you, if {with withering scorn) you didn't 
marry too soon. And then he quoted that silly 
old saw, "A young man married is a man that's 
marred." Spiteful old thing ! 

ROBERT {to himself). • 

The deuce he did! Bull's-eye, by Jove. {To her, 
carelessly:) Yes, I know that to be his opinion. 
That's the reason I chose him. You know, Gra- 
ham sees so clearly all the obstacles that matrimony 
puts in a man's way — the added responsibility 
{counting them off deliberately on his fingers)^ the 
loss of personal liberty, the petty social duties, the 
possible — er — nagging, the narrowed horizon, the 
contracted environment, the curtailed opportuni- 
ties, the 

[308] 



THE COMMITTEE ON MATRIMONY 

PHYLLIS {hysterically, rising). 
You needn't go on, Mr. Chalmers ! I've heard 
quite enough! I wouldn't for anything in the 
world entail such sacrifice upon you ! 

ROBERT {mildly). 
My dear little girl, how excitable you are! 

PHYLLIS 

{sits suddenly, tappi/ng on the table with her finger- 
tips). 

I am not your dear little girl! And I'm not in 
the least excited! 

ROBERT. 

But, Phyllis, be calm a moment and listen to reason. 

PHYLLIS 

{again springing to her feet). 
Reason! Reason! That's like a man! You all 
care so much more for what you call "reason," and 
for practical, sordid considerations than you do 
for our happiness ! ( Turns her back upon him. ) 

ROBERT {suppressing a smile). 

But I understood that this committee was to be 

formed for eminently practical purposes, to sug- 

[309] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

gest and consider the objections to our marriage 
that we couldn't be expected, under the circum- 
stances, to discover. 

PHYLLIS (over her shoulder). 
You seem to have no difficulty in discovering them ! 

ROBERT. 

But Graham could think of so many more! You 
see, he's not hampered by his love for you. ( Phyl- 
JAS sniffs disdainfully. Robert lazily leans back 
among the cushions.) Now, that's settled. Who's 
your next candidate.? 

PHYLLIS 

(turni/ng upon him suddenly). 

Do I understand that you will not withdraw Dun- 
can Graham's name.f^ 

ROBERT. 

Certainly I'll not. Why should 1? 

PHYLLIS. 

You want that crabbed, dyspeptic, pessimistic, 

stubborn, detestable old Scotchman making his 

cynical comments on — on our love for each other .?* 

[310] 



THE COMMITTEE ON MATRIMONY 
ROBERT 

{slowly rising and moving toward her, speaking 
solemnly and impressively). 

But you remember that Mrs. Treavor says that 
love between a man and a woman is, of itself, an 
insurmountable subjective obstacle, evanescent in 
its very nature, and paralysing to the conversation 
of soul energy ; and that only when these subjective 
distortions are cast aside, and the higher poten- 
tialities of the spirit are educed, can the submerged 
mentality become transcendentally greater in sci- 
entific idealism, and the ego, vibrating to a domi- 
nant note in the thought-atmosphere, become a 
finited spirit, potentially whole. {To himself, rue- 
fully:) I'm afraid I got that mixed! 

PHYLLIS 

{who has been starvng at hvm vn amazement and 
consternation, runs past him and throws her- 
self, weepvng, upon the divan). 

Oh, Rob! Rob! Rob! 

{Impulsively, he starts to comfort her, but checks 
himself, shakes his head, thrusts his hands 
resolutely into his trousers^ pockets, and stands 
looking down at her. ) 

[311] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

ROBERT {very tenderly). 

Phyllis, shall we give up this idea? Shall we put 
our faith in our love for each other and — {smiling 
slightly) chance it? 

PHYLLIS 

{rising, wrathful, tearful, defiant). 

No! No! No! We canH give it up! But you 
must withdraw Duncan Graham. I will not have 
him on that committee ! You understand, Rob ? 

ROBERT 

{thoughtfully, to himself). 

Now for one big, brutal bluff! {He turns toward 
her, speaking sternly.) Phyllis, listen to me. I 
have yielded thus far to your folly because I hoped 
you'd see the absurdity of your position. {She 
makes an imperious gesture, which he ignores.) 
Your conduct shows me that my hope is vain. Now 
we'll decide this question at once, if you please. 
You know that I love you. You know what my 
circumstances are, financially and socially, and what 
your position as my wife would be. You say that 
you love me. If you love me, you'll marry me. 
{He takes out his watch.) I will give you five min- 
utes in which to decide whether or not you'll marry 



THE COMMITTEE ON MATRIMONY 

me within three months. If, at the end of five 
minutes, you have not decided, I shall go away — 
and I shall not return. (Phyllis ^5 fZ^j^aTZ^.) . . . 
One minute. (Phyllis taps her foot and clasps 
and unclasps her hands,) . . . Two minutes. 
(Phyllis fumbles for her handkerchief.) . . . 
Three minutes. (Phyllis furtively wipes her 
eyes.) , . . Four minutes. (Phyllis drops 
among the pillows and weeps.) . . . Five min- 
utes ! {He closes the watch with a snap and returns 
it to his pocket.) Phyllis {tenderly), will you 
marry me? (Phyllis sobs. After a slight pause, 
Robert walks rapidly to the door, where he turns 
and looks back at her. ) Phyllis ? . . . Good 
night. {Exit Robert.) 

{As soon as the curtain falls behind him, Phyllis 
sits up, listens to his departing steps, and 
springs to her feet.) 

PHYLLIS {calling). 

Rob! Rob! Oh, Rob! {Ashe appears vn the door- 
way, she retreats a few steps.) 

ROBERT {politely). 
You called.'^ {She nods and sobs.) You wished to 

[313] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

PHYLLIS 

{family, struggling with her sohs). 

I'll — I'll withdraw — Mrs. Treavor's — name — from 
that — that committee, — if — if you'll withdraw 

ROBERT. 

Well? 

PHYLLIS. 

If you'll withdraw — Duncan Graham's. 

ROBERT (entering). 

Oh, well, that's fair. Of course I will. But, really, 
(slowly drawing nearer to her), I don't see the need 
of any other committee, if — if — if we 

PHYLLIS 

(beaming, expectant, joyous). 

Why, neither do I, you old goose! 

(She stretched out her hands to him^ and as he 
moves toward her with extended arms ) 

Quick Curtain. 



[314] 



HER NEIGHBOUR'S CREED 



HER NEIGHBOUR'S CREED 
A Sketch 

" Nor hnowest thou what argument 

Thy life to thy neighbour'' s creed hath lent.'''' 

— Emerson. 



The Hunters^ librarT/ is a costf room, filled with 
old mahogany and rare brasses, Indian baskets and 
Oriental rugs, couches, easy-chairs, and many long, 
low bookcases. Most of the room is in shadow, but 
the rays of the reading-lamp fall upon Mr. Hun- 
ter, smoking behind his newspaper, and less direct- 
ly upon Mrs. Hunter, who plays with the Maltese 
kitten lying in her lap. The tone of her soft grey 
gown is warmed by the pink glow of the lamp, and 
her pretty, fair hair seems surrounded by a rosy 
halo, 

HE {looking over his newspaper). 
By the way, dearie, I met Torrence on the car to- 
day, and they want us to come out there to dinner 
to-morrow night. He said Alice would 'phone you 
this evening. 

SHE (raising her brows). 
To-morrow night.? Why, Dick, to-morrow will be 
Good Friday ! 

HE. 

Oh, will it? Well.? 

[317] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

SHE. 
Well, of course, I can't go. 

HE. 

Why not.? Something else on hand? 

SHE. 
Dick ! As if I'd go anywhere except to church on 
Good Friday ! 

HE (rather blankly). 
Oh! Well, but see here, Polly, why can't you go 
to church in the morning? 

SHE (primly). 
I intend to. 

HE. 

Well, that won't interfere with our going to the 
Torrences' in the evening. You see, they've 

planned 

SHE. 
Of course, Dick, we couldn't expect Will and Alice 
to consider the day at all. They were both born 
and reared Unitarians, you know 

HE. 
So was I. 

[318] 



HER NEIGHBOUR'S CREED 

SHE (sighing). 
Yes, I know; so, naturally, none of you thought 
about it's being Good Friday. But I couldn't think 
of going out to dine. Indeed, I shouldn't dream of 
going anywhere except, as I say, to church. 

HE 

(disappearing behi/nd his newspaper). 
Oh! 

(A pause ensues, during which the Mtten is erir- 
couraged to bite his own tail -fiercely. When 
she speaks again, her tone is so casual that 
not e'ven a married woman would suspect that 
the excellent dinner just finished, and her un^ 
usually dainty toilet, were carefully studied 
preliminaries to her statement.) 

SHE. 

Oh, Dick ! Invitations came to-day for the Patter- 
sons' reception on the 29th. 

HE 

(clouding his newspaper in smoke). 
Yes? 

SHE (definitely). 
And of course we'll go. 

[319] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

HE (without enthusiasm). 
Yes, I suppose so. 

SHE. 
So, on my way home from church this morning, I 
stopped at Grover's and bought a new gown. I 
must have one, you know. 

HE (absently). 
Yes, of course. 

SHE. 
I met Charlotte Houghton there, and, as usual, she 
was gorgeously dressed. She had on that green 
gown with gold trimmings. Such bad taste for 
Lenten wear! 

HE (looking over his paper), 
Charlotte's pretty. Probably sackcloth doesn't suit 
her complexion. 

SHE. 
Oh, as to that — of course, one needn't be a guy! 
But gold trimmings! You know (pensively), I've 
worn only greys and purples all through Lent. 
There was that lovely red cloth of mine lying there, 
too, but I simply couldn't wear it, you know, In 
Lent! 

HE 
(absorbed in the market reports). 
No, I suppose not. 

[320] 



HER NEIGHBOUR'S CREED 

SHE (enthusiastically). 
But I'm going to have the dearest gown for Easter ! 
I'm going for the last fitting to-morrow. 

HE 

(suddenly peering over the paper again). 
Eh ? I thought you said 

SHE. 

And the lovehest hat! That came home to-day, 
but it wasn't quite right, so I sent it back, and I'll 
slip in to Miss Benner's to-morrow and show her 
what I want done with it. 

HE (gravely). 
But, Polly, to-morrow will be Good Friday ! 

SHE. 

Well.? 

HE. 
And you're going nowhere except to church, you 
know. 

SHE. 
Oh, Dick, don't be stupid ! 

HE. 

But you said 

SHE. 
I said I couldn't go out to dinner. Of course I did ! 

[321] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

HE {slowly). 
Oh, I see. You're garbed in sackcloth and crowned 
with ashes, but you can go to the dressmaker's and 
the miUiner's and gloat over the flesh-pots in antici- 
pation. Is that it? 

SHE {protestingly) . 
Not at all ! I suppose you think it's fun to have a 
gown fitted ! 

HE. 
Oh, then, this is a new form of penance? {He 
smiles whimsically. ) Expensive enough to be pop- 
ular, too, I should say. What else are you going 
to do to-morrow? 

SHE. 
Well, I must go to Dixon's and get something for 
Elsie Bidwell. You know she sent me a vinaigrette 
on Valentine's Day, and I didn't send her a thing. 
I want to have the mirror I got for mamma marked, 
too; and I haven't anything yet for Tom or Rob. 
It's so hard to get things for men. 

HE. 

Why give them anything? 

SHE. 

Why, for Easter ! Dick Hunter, I have to explain 

to you every single year that it's the custom to send 

one's friends Easter greetings ! 

[322] 



HER NEIGHBOUR'S CREED 

HE. 

But since Easter commemorates the Resurrection, I 
thought one sent flowers and fresh young plants 
and — er — you know; that sort of thing. 

SHE 

(with mhatf m a less refined woman, wovld he a 
sniff). 

Oh, of course, if one wishes just barely to notice 
people ! But everybody in our set sends silver. 

HE 

(in a puzzled tone, screening his twinkling eyes 
with his hand). 

Oh, do they? Purified by fire, I suppose, and all 
that. But I don't quite see the connection. 

SHE {vaguely). 
I'm sure I don't know. 

HE. 

I suppose there must be some remote and forgotten 
symbolism 

SHE {hastily). 
Oh, well, never mind! You're always hunting for 
impossible things ! Dick, I asked the Caruthers to 
dine here Sunday. 

[ 323 ] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

HE (turning to the editorial page), 
Caruthers ? That's good ! They're going to be at 
Torrence's to-morrow night. 

SHE. 

Oh, are they ? They're Unitarians, too, aren't they ? 

HE. 

I don't know. Guess not. Then they're all going 
to hear Treboni. 

SHE 

{in a tone eloquent of surprise), 
Treboni ! 

HE. 

Yes ; she gives one concert, you know, on her way 
back from the Pacific Coast. 

SHE (wistfully). 
Only one.? 

HE {cheerfully). 
That's all. 

SHE. 

Oh, dear! . . . Did they want us to go, Dick? 

[824] 



HER NEIGHBOUR'S CREED 

HE. 

Yes ; Torrence has a loge. 

SHE. 

Well, why didn't you tell me? 

HE. 

You said you couldn't go. 

SHE. 

I know ; but you might, at least, have told me what 
I was refusing! How stupid of her to be here on 
Good Friday! (Another pause, during which the 
kitten plaintively mews, as is the manner of kittens 
when their ears are tweaked,) Oh — er — Dick.'' 

HE 

{deeply interested in the editorial). 
H'm? 

SHE. 
That isn't going to be a sacred concert, I suppose.? 

HE. 

Guess not. Haven't heard anything about it. 

SHE (tentatively). 
Of course, nobody will go. 

[325] 






COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

HE. 

Oh, I don't know. Torrence said the seats were 
selling well. 

SHE (impatiently). 
Oh, yes, of course! But I mean — nobody in our 
set. 

HE. 

There are the Torrences and the Caruthers ! 

SHE. 

Yes, but — they aren't really in the set, you know. 
Of course, we know them, and the men are your 
friends, but — Alice and Rose don't — don't 

HE 

(a hint of sarcasm in his tone). 
Don't attend the Church of St. Simeon Stylites ? 

SHE 

(with spirit, pushing the kitten from her lap as 
she rises). 

Well, you know perfectly well that all the nicest 
people go there ! The people one must know ; that 
is, if — if one's going to be anybody ! And one must 
consider one's children ! 

[ 326 ] 



HER NEIGHBOUR'S CREED 

HE 

(as one who has unexpectedly solved an abstruse 
problem ) . 

0-oh! All this is really a new form of maternal 
solicitude, is it? 

SHE. 

Well, of course, I want him to grow up knowing the 
right people. 

HE {drily), 
H'm! Yes, I see. But judging from the young 
man's definite and original ideas as to the "time to 
keep silence and the time to speak" — he lifted his 
voice at five o'clock this morning, to my personal 
knowledge! — and-— well, the proprieties governing 
his conduct generally, I fancy he'll choose his own 
friends when the time comes ! 

SHE. 

All the more reason that he should be properly 
started! One never entirely shakes off the influ- 
ences of one's childhood, you know. 

h:e. 

Which, since your people were Quakers, accounts 
for your devotion to St. Simeon Stylites, I sup- 
pose ? 

[ 327 ] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

{This, being manifestly irrelevant, is very prop- 
erly ignored, and he resumes his interrupted 
reading, while she restlessly wanders about 
the room.) 

SHE {suddenly). 
Oh, Dick, I wished we lived in England ! 

HE. 

Do you? 

SHE. 

Yes; because there they close all the theatres and 
things on Good Friday. . . . Dick.^^ 

HE. 

Yes.? 

SHE. 

Do you know what Treboni is going to sing? 

HE. 

No ; Torrence didn't say. The usual thing, I sup- 
pose. 

SHE {disconsolately). 

I don't see why she didn't call it a sacred concert. 
It would have made it so easy ! That would have 
been fine, wouldn't it, Dick ? 
[328] 



HER NEIGHBOUR'S CREED 

HE. 

Very. 

SHE 

(returning to her hassock near the fireplace), 
I wonder if people will dress much ? 

HE. 

Well, I hope they'll dress more than they did the 
last time she was here ! Old Mrs. Loomis's lack of 
apparel was scandalous ! 

SHE (picking up the kitten again). 
Oh, you know what I mean ! Don't you suppose 
they'll wear very quiet, dark things ? 

HE. 

Don't know, I'm sure. 

SHE (poking the fire). 
Oh, dear ! I would so love to go — if it weren't Good 
Friday, of course ! . . . You said Alice intended 
to 'phone me to-night? 

HE. 

That's what Torrence said. 

SHE. 

What did you tell him ? 

[329] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

HE. 

Told him I thought we'd go. 

SHE (reproachfully). 
Oh, Dick! 

HE (contritely). 
I'm sorry, dear ; but I forgot all about Good Friday. 
You can tell her about it. 

SHE. 

Yes, but — oh, I suppose I must! (She thrusts the 
poker back into the rack with a clatter that sends 
the kitten leaping away.) You think I ought to, 
don't you, Dick.?^ 

HE. 

Ought to what.'' 

SHE. 

Tell her we can't go. 

HE (gravely). 
You must do as you think best about that, Polly. I 
don't want you to do anything that you think is 
wrong. 

SHE (persistently). 
But you do want to go, don't you.?' 
[ 330 ] 



HER NEIGHBOUR'S CREED 

HE (smiling at her). 
Oh, it would be very jolly, of course. Torrence and 
Caruthers and the girls are all pleasant, and they'll 
have a jolly time; but I shouldn't enjoy it if I 
knew you were being scourged by your conscience. 

SHE (sighing). 
No, of course not. (She takes up a newspaper, and 
for a few minutes is still.) Oh, here's the pro- 
gramme! . . . Dick, she's going to sing the 
Bach-Gounod "Ave Maria." That's sacred. And 
Elizabeth's Prayer from "Tannhauser." Why, it's 
going to be a sacred concert, after all ! 

HE. 

What else will she sing ? 

SHE (carelessly). 
Oh, some French songs and — other things. 

HE. 

Call those sacred.'^ 

SHE. 
Oh, well, one needn't listen to the words, you 
know. Probably no one will understand them, any- 
way — and the music's good. Fine music's always 
sacred, isn't it ? You know ever so many arias from 
the operas are sung in church, with sacred words. 
And if one didn't listen to the French — or just 

[331 ] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

thought sacred words to one's self- — I don't see why 
one mightn't go. 

(There is another long pattse^ during which she 
studies the fire^ and he, smiling hehmd the 
screen of his newspaper, watches her.) 

SHE {thoughtfully). 
And one might wear black, you know — my jetted 
net would do — and no jewels. What do you think, 
Dick? 

HE 

{after feigning a yawn to conceal the smile that 

threatened to betray him). 

You must do as you think best, dear. 

SHE. 
I suppose, if I asked them, the girls would wear 
dark gowns. And you'd be so disappointed to miss 
it, wouldn't you, dear.? 

HE {obtusely). 
Don't consider me at all, Polly. I've heard Treboni 
several times, you know 

SHE. 

Well, but I haven't ! That is ( hurriedly ) , I haven't 
any right to be selfish about it. One must sacri- 
fice even one's scruples at times, I suppose. And 
[ 332 ] 



HER NEIGHBOUR'S CREED 

I'll send some lilies — How much are lilies now, 
Dick? 

HE (biting his lip). 
I haven't priced them, but somebody said they were 
very expensive this year. 

SHE (with enthusiasm) . 
Then I'll send a lot of lilies to St. Simeon's — 
enough to go all the way around the chancel ! And 
— I needn't eat very much dinner. 

HE. 

Then you're going? 

SHE. 

Well — it's almost a sacred concert, you know. Be- 
sides, nobody whom we know will see us, anyway, 
except the Caruthers and the Torrences, and they 
don't care. 

HE. 

The Sewells are going. 

SHE. 

The Sewells! The Ellery Sewells? Why, Dick 
Hunter ! Why didn't you say so in the first place ! 
If the Sewells are there, nobody will say a word. 
[ 333 ] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

HE. 

There's the telephone bell. What are you going to 
tell AHce? 

SHE. 
Tell her? Why, we'll go, of course! I wouldn't 
miss it for anything ! 



Curtain. 



[334 ] 



UNEXPECTED GUESTS 



UNEXPECTED GUESTS 

Now, Eleanore, if you can't keep out of the way, 
you run right upstairs and play. I can't have you 
hanging to my skirts while I'm getting luncheon. 
Well, Katie's washing, you know. No, of course 
you can't go where Katie is. She's cross enough 
now, goodness knows ! Here she comes ! Now, you 
run right out of the kitchen. 

I've just come out (apologetically^) to make a 
cup of tea, Katie. I'll have some bread and butter 
and tea for luncheon, and Eleanore can have bread 
and milk. No bread ! Why, Katie ! Oh, yes, of 
course ! I forgot that we had a chafing-dish sup- 
per last night. Yes, you're quite right ; it takes a 
great deal of bread to make toast. Of course you 
couldn't be expected to foresee emergencies like 
that. Oh, well, we'll eat crackers. And I'll get 
some jam. 

Eleanore, what are you doing? Come right out 

of the pantry. Why, Eleanore Pelham! Look 

what you've done ! What is that ? Molasses ? All 

over Katie's clean shelves ! You naughty girl ! 

[337] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

Never mind, Katie, I'll clean it up. Yes, I know; 
you're busy with the washing. Mercy! There's 
the door-bell ! Just twelve o'clock. Must be a ped- 
lar. I can't go, and you — oh, no, of course I never 
expect you to answer the bell on wash-day, Katie. 
Eleanore, you go to the door, and say that I'm busy 
and that I don't want anything. And don't stand 
talking to the man, but shut the door at once. Then 
go upstairs and wait until I come. Do you under- 
stand .^^ 

I'm very sorry about the molasses, Katie, but I'll 
clean it all up. Oh, well, little people don't always 
realise what trouble they are making, you know. 
Oh, yes, I shall punish her, certainly. You may go 
back to the laundry. I'll attend to this and get 
luncheon. Ugh ! Of all the sticky messes ! 

What.? Ladies! At this hour.? Let me see, 
Eleanore. Mrs. James Norton Enderby ! My 
land! I asked her to come to luncheon any day 
that she happened to be in town — and she's come! 
What? You told her — Eleanore Gladys Pelham! 
Did you tell that lady that I was busy and didn't 
want anything.? Well, you'll go straight to bed! 
Now stop your whimpering this instant! I've no 
time for any nonsense of that sort ! And it's wash- 
day! And Katie's perfectly savage! And there's 
not a slice of bread in the house! And all this 
horrid mess in the pantry! Two ladies, did you 
[338] 



UNEXPECTED GUESTS 

sa J ? Oh, well, she can't intend to stay, then. I'll 
just leave this until she's gone. 

Oh, how do you do, Mrs. Enderby.'^ So delighted 
to see you ! Your sister.? Not your sister Florence, 
whom you have told me so much about.? Oh, so 
charmed to meet you. Miss Johnson! Why, cer- 
tainly, Mrs. Enderby! So nice of you to under- 
stand that I should want to meet her at once ! No, 
I won't make a bit of fuss. Just what we should 
have ourselves, you know. Let me take your wraps. 
It's so delightful to have you drop in in this infor- 
mal way ! Eleanore and I are often quite lonely. 
Yes, my little girl. Oh, did she ? How dreadful of 
her ! I told her once to say something like that to a 
miserable book-agent whom I saw coming, and she's 
never forgotten it. Children have such unfathom- 
able memories ! Now, will you amuse yourselves for 
a moment, while I put away your wraps and tell my 
maid to lay some extra plates ? Oh, no, not the least 
in the world ! That's one thing that my maids al- 
ways understand from the first — that there shall be 
no complaints about unexpected guests. Oh, yes, 
it requires a little firmness and tact in the beginning, 
but they can always be trained, and I simply will 
not be a slave to my cook ! 

Oh, dear, what shall I do ? I've got to tell Katie ! 
If— Well, there's no help for it! Katie! Oh, 
Katie ! Come here a moment, please. Some ladies 
[339] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

have just come and — Oh, I'm very sorry, Katie, 
but really, I can't help it ! — and we've got to give 
them something to eat. Well, you see, it's very im- 
portant because — oh, well, I haven't time to explain 
now, but there are reasons why I must be nice to 
Mrs. Enderby. Now what can you give us for 
luncheon.? But, Katie, I can't get it now! You 
may leave the rest of the washing. Well, then, I'll 
send it out. Katie {^firmly), you must get us some 
lunch ! I don't know what, but I've got to go back 
in the other room, and you are to get luncheon. 
You understand, Katie ! Why, give us the cold 
chicken that was left from yesterday's dinner. 
Gone! Impossible ! There was almost a whole one 
left when it came off the table. I noticed it particu- 
larly, and thought it would do for dinner to-night, 
with a little stretching. Oh, certainly, Katie, I 
haven't the least objection to your having every- 
thing that you need to eat, but a whole chick — 
Oh, well, never mind ! But get us something ! I 
know there's no bread, but isn't it almost time for 
the baker .f^ Oh, well, we can't wait until half-past 
two, you know. That is nonsense. You must make 
some hot biscuits, only be quick ! 

Why, Eleanore, are you here entertaining the la- 
dies? I'm afraid you are bothering Miss Johnson. 
Not everybody likes to have little girls leaning on 
them. Oh, she's been showing you her kindergarten 
[340] 



UNEXPECTED GUESTS 

things, has she? Yes, we think she has rather an 
unusual adaptability for that sort of thing. We 
hope she's going to be an artist. Her teacher 
thinks she shows great talent. Eleanore, can you 
tell Miss Johnson about Mrs. Pussy,? Oh, I think 
you can! Come, come, now, don't be naughty! 
Tell Miss Johnson about Mrs. Pussy, and then 
mamma'll give you some candy. Stand right here 
by mamma. Take your finger out of your 
mouth! — so. Now begin. "Mrs. Pussy, sleek 
and fat—" "—kittens four." That's right! 
"Went to sleep — " Go on, dear. "By the kitchen 
— door.*^ That's right! Yes, she's only five, you 
know! Now the next verse, dearie. Oh, yes! 
Come, now, go right on! "Mrs. Pussy heard — " 
" — in glee." Yes; go on. "Kittens, maybe — " 
" — go and see." Yes, we think she has a very re- 
markable memory. Her teacher says she remem- 
bers these things better than any other child in 
the class. Now, Eleanore! "Creeping, creep- 
ing—" Oh, have you forgotten it? You knew 
it so well yesterday! "But the little mouse 
had gone — " Why, Eleanore Pelham! What's 
this on your dress? Molasses! Oh — er — yes, 
I forgot ! Will you excuse me a moment while 
I go and — er — scrub this small girl? Come, 
Eleanore. 

Now you go straight up the back stairs to your 
[341 ] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

plaj-room, and stay there until I come. Don't 
come down again, Eleanore. Do you understand? 
I'll come when I have cleaned up the molasses you 
spilled all over the pantry ! 

Why, Katie! Why aren't you getting 
luncheon? Well, I told you to make biscuits. 
Yes, I know there's molasses all over the pantry 
— I'm very sorry about that, Katie! — but can't 
you make biscuits on the kitchen-table this once? 
Well, but we must have something to eat! It's 
one o'clock now! Katie! Leave me — now? Oh, 
you can't ! You — you mustn't! I know ! It was 
very thoughtless of Mrs. Enderby to come on Mon- 
day — stupid thing she is, anyway ! — and I ought 
not to have given her that sort of an invitation! 
But if you'll stay and serve luncheon, I'll — I'll give 
you that new silk petticoat of mine ! It's just about 
long enough for you. No, you needn't cook antf- 
thingf We'll have — let me see! — is there any 
boned chicken in the house ? I mean canned chicken, 
you know! Well, if you'll open a can of that, 
I'll cream it in the chafing-dish, and — No, you 
needn't make biscuits! I'll serve it on toasted 
crackers. If you'll set the table, Katie, and toast 
the crackers, and open the chicken, and serve the 
luncheon, I'll wash the dishes — and give you that 
silk petticoat — and — yes, and a whole day off! 
To-morrow? Yes, the ironing can wait. Well, 
[342] 



UNEXPECTED GUESTS 

then, I'll have some one come in and do it. Now, 
that's a good girl, Katie! A-a-ah! 

Yes, we went to hear her last night. Do you 
think she's as attractive in this role as she was in 
"The Prisoner of Zenda"? Oh, well, perhaps I 
wasn't in a very responsive mood. Oh, no, not in 
the least, Mrs. Enderby! Indeed, I'm going to 
take you at your word, and give you a picked-up 
luncheon — ^just what we should have had ourselves, 
you know. But on Mondays we always have lunch- 
eon rather late — ^in fact, we have it quite late. I 
hope you don't mind? Yes, I have a very satisfac- 
tory maid — as maids go. Of course, she needs a 
little managing, but I really think I have a way 
with servants. I really have. I seldom have much 
trouble with them, until they get perfectly unen- 
durable, and then — I simply dismiss them, you 
know. Have you heard about poor Mrs. Drayton? 
She tried to dismiss her cook last week, and the 
woman drove her out of the kitchen by throwing 
things at her — anything within her reach, you 
know! Poor Mrs. Drayton was so upset, she had 
to send for the doctor and a policeman. Now, if I 
had a maid who was given to throwing things about, 
I should — Good gracious! what's that? Excuse 
me a moment ! 

Oh, you dropped the chafing-dish, Katie? They 
are slippery things. I dropped one once myself. 
[343] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

Anything broken ? No, I think it's all right. Have 
you the crackers ready to toast? Here's the chick- 
en — butter — cream — flour — olives — yes, I think 
that's all. Oh, did you fill the lamp — ^the alcohol- 
lamp under the chafing-dish ? Never mind ; I'll do 
it. And tea, jam, and little cakes for dessert. All 
ready, Katie ? Yes, you shall have the petticoat this 
afternoon, just as I promised you. 

Won't you come out to luncheon, ladies ? 



[344] 



THE P. A. I. L. W. R. 



THE P. A. I. L. W. R. 

Is this Mrs. Brastow? Yes, good morning, Mrs. 
Brastow. I thought I couldn't be mistaken. What 
a charming location you have here ! I was in this 
city when Mr. Brastow bought this lot. I said then 
that it was an ideal site for a home, and I see it is. 
And an ideal home on the site. No, I've never had 
the pleasure of meeting you before, but I've had 
many a long talk with your husband during the 
past fifteen years. Oh, yes, I know Mr. Brastow 
well. You may have heard him speak of me. Jones 
is my name. Charlie Jones. Yes, I know him well. 
Thank you, I will come in for a moment. 

What a lovely room, to be sure ! Such a sense of 
restf ulness pervades it ! How one does feel the in- 
dividuality of a room, Mrs. Brastow ! And I sup- 
pose everything in your house is as perfect, in its 
way, as this room is. 

There can be only one thing necessary to complete 
it, and that one thing I shall now have the pleasure 
of introducing to you. It is the Patent Adjustable 
Indestructible Loop Wire Receptacle — sometimes 
called the P. A. I. L. W. R., for short — capable of 
being transformed, at a moment's notice, and with- 
[347] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

out the aid of any other tool or instrument except 
the human hand, into any one of twenty-three 
separate and distinct household articles, each one 
absolutely indispensable to the well-regulated and 
adequately equipped home. For example, as you 
see it now, it is a fruit-dish. Piled high with 
oranges and bananas, it is a most artistic and beau- 
tiful centrepiece for any table. You will notice 
that the wires are all plated with a patented com- 
position, invented especially for this article, which 
makes them look like the finest spun silver. This 
plate is permanent and will never wear off. Like 
everything else used in the composition of the 
Patent Adjustable Indestructible Loop Wire Re- 
ceptacle, it is absolutely indestructible. Just pic- 
ture to yourself a dining-table with this magnifi- 
cent article as a centrepiece. 

You never eat fruit.? Is it possible! I had a 
brother who had a similar taste. I've known him 
to leave the table because he was unable to bear the 
sight of a plate of ripe fruit. On one occasion he 
broke up a dinner-party by so doing, because he 
was the fourteenth guest, and, of course, when he 
left — ^well, you've heard of that little superstition 
of thirteen at table. Ah? Well, neither am I. I 
believe I have no superstitions — unless, indeed, it's 
the one about pins. "See a pin and pick it up," 
you know. I never fail to pick up a pin, and it al- 
[ 348 ] 



THE P. A. I. L. W. R. 

ways brings me good luck. I picked up one on 
your step, while I was waiting for the door to be 
opened. 

By the way, talking about pins, by compress- 
ing this wonderful article, thus, it becomes a pin- 
tray, an article indispensable to every well-appoint- 
ed dressing-table. Ah? You use silver pin-trays. 
Well, of course, many ladies are fortunate enough 
to be supplied with them now, but one never knows 
when thieves may break in and steal, you know. 
And then, one is liable to run up against an emer- 
gency, such as unexpected guests from the coun- 
try, who have to be accommodated in improvised 
bed-rooms — bed-lounges, and that sort of thing — 
and, of course, a conscientious hostess always likes 
to be equal to the occasion. Now, with a number of 
these marvellous articles in the house, a complete 
toilet-set, lacking only the brush and mirror, may 
be had at a moment's notice. This, as I have said, 
is the pin-tray. Now, you slip this loop, turn it 
thus, pull it out, and, presto ! you have a beautiful 
silver comb ! By snapping these loops down, thus, 
a handle is formed, and the loop at the opposite end 
may be used as a button-hook. 

Ah, yes, many ladies wear laced boots now, but I 

am confidentially informed that buttons are coming 

in, and in a year all women's shoes will be buttoned. 

"A stitch in time," you know. One should always 

[349] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

be prepared. That's the secret of success. Always 
be prepared. Now, by slipping this spring, the 
whole string of loops becomes a chain, useful in a 
variety of ways. It's often found valuable as a 
supporter for pillow-shams ; or, united at the ends, 
thus, it is worn about a lady's neck as a watch-chain 
— or a lorgnette may be attached to the end. 
You've noticed how very fashionable these long 
chains have become since the introduction of the 
Patent Adjustable Indestructible Loop Wire Re- 
ceptacle. Or, by again forming the basket founda- 
tion, thus, and attaching the braces, so, one has an 
egg-basket, always a necessary article in every 
house. 

Never eat eggs? Indeed! Now, that's very in- 
teresting ! You know, I'm making up a set of sta- 
tistics about the people who don't eat things, and 
the things people don't eat. Take your own case, 
for example. I've discovered in this short time that 
you eat neither fruit nor eggs. One season I so- 
licited orders for a set of patent cake-tins, and you'd 
be surprised at the number of ladies who assured 
me that they never ate cake. It's most interesting. 
- Yes, to be sure; I know it's Saturday morning, 
and that's always a busy morning for a housekeep- 
er. I'll not detain you a moment. As I was about 
to say, by compressing this part and sliding the 
handle down, you have a most complete and artistic 
[350] 



THE P. A. I. L. W. R. 

pudding-dish, of unique and pleasing shape. Oh, 
pardon me, perhaps you never eat puddings, either ? 
Ah, most interesting! Or, by flattening it, thus, 
and pulHng this end out, you have a complete toast- 
er and broiler, suitable for use with any kind of 
heat, coal, gas, oil, or electricity. Again, by scoop- 
ing out the bottom, thus, pushing these wires back, 
and shaping it a little with the fingers, you have a 
handsome picture-frame, of the shape known as the 
shadow-box, without the heavy, sombre appear- 
ance of the usual shadow-boxes made in black. 

Now, I see by the toys on the front stoop that 
you have little ones — ah, yes, what is home without 
the little darlings ! — and what could be a more suit- 
able frame for the baby's picture than that? Just 
fancy the little dear — his father's joy — a little girl.^^ 
Indeed ! I might have known it ! I think I saw her 
outside. She has her mother's smile. As I was 
about to say, just picture the little dear, his fa — oh, 
to be sure! — her father's joy, looking out of that 
shining frame! Have you the baby's picture at 
hand, Mrs. Brastow ? Ah, I'm sorry. I should have 
liked to see it in this frame. It would have been a 
pleasant memory to carry away with me. 

Yes; just a moment, please. Then, by complet- 
ing the basket form again, and by stretching these 
loops to the uttermost, you have a waste-basket, 
light, durable, clean, and exceedingly handsome. 
[351] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

Or by slightly pressing it together and decreasing 
its size, one has a jardiniere, suitable for — ^just a 
moment, please — a jardiniere, suitable for potted 
plants. 

By studying the various combinations possible 
to the Patent Adjustable Indestructible Loop Wire 
Receptacle — and we give with each one (without 
extra charge) a copy of this valuable little booklet 
containing full instructions — one may have, as I 
have said, a fruit-dish, a pin-tray, a beautiful hair- 
comb, a watch-chain, a sham-supporter, a pudding- 
dish, an egg-basket, a toaster and broiler, a picture- 
frame, a waste-basket, or a jardiniere. Not only 
this — I'll not detain you five minutes more, madam ! 
—but a candlestick — you know how fashionable 
candles have become since this wonderful little in- 
vention has been on the market.? — a small easel, a 
receptacle for a glass holding hot liquid, as whis — 
ahem! — lemonade; a stove-hook, a flatiron stand, a 
tea-tray — perhaps you don't drink tea.? Beg par- 
don ; no offence meant, I assure you ! I was merely 
thinking of my book — the statistics, you know. 

Yes, yes, I quite appreciate your position, Mrs. 
Brastow. I'm a busy man myself, and, of course, 
the quicker I can make a sale, the better I'm pleased. 
Now, sometimes I make a sale right away, and 
sometimes it takes me all the morning. It's against 
my principles to ask anybody to buy. There's no 
[ 352 ] 



THE P. A. I. L. W. R. 

greater mistake in this business than urging people 
to buy. The point is to convince the lady that she 
wants the article — just stay right with her until 
she's convinced — and then your work's done. The 
really successful salesman never has to ask anybody 
to buy. I'm very successful that way myself. 

But some ladies are slow to accept the fact, you 
know, that there's anything new in the world that's 
better than the old thing they happen to have. 
Now, I found a little woman in Davisville last week, 
who was very hard to convince ; but I never give up, 
you know, never give up ! That's the secret of suc- 
cess. Never say die ! And I stayed with that wom- 
an from ten o'clock in the morning until three 
in the afternoon. But I made the sale! Now 
she couldn't keep house without the Patent Adjust- 
able Indestructible Loop Wire Receptacle. How- 
ever, I was about to call your attention to 

Well, they're being sold now at the remarkably 
low price of sixty-five cents, just to introduce them, 
you know. Many ladies are buying them by the 
dozen and half-dozen, realising that this opportu- 
nity will not offer again. When I come around next 
year, the price will have advanced fifty per cent., 
and I expect to make twice as many sales, for then 
every lady will know me and the Patent Adjustable 
Indestructible Loop Wire Receptacle, and will real- 
ise that she'll save her time and mine by buying it 
[ 353 ] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

at once. Not that it isn't a pleasure to show it. I'm 
as proud of it as if it were my own invention. But 
as I was about to say 

One? Oh, I think you'll need more than that! 
With a house of this size, you could hardly get 
along without more than that. I consider six a 
very small order for a place as large as this. No, 
really, Mrs. Brastow, my conscience would ache if I 
let you do yourself that wrong. Yes, I know, but 
you'll thank me when I'm gone. No, I couldn't feel 
right about it. Well, of course, you might get 
along with three, but for your own sake, I hate to 
leave less than half a dozen with you. Three ? Very 
well. Yes, one ninety-five, please. That's right, 
thank you. I was about to call your attention to 
the fact that, in addition to the things I have men- 
tioned 

My dear madam, I'm telling you this solely for 
your own convenience ! My sale's made. Very well ; 
but you'll find in the little booklet the directions for 
making the bread-tray, handkerchief-case, cigar- 
holder, inkstand, footstool, and hand-satchel, in ad- 
dition to the other things I mentioned. Good morn- 
ing, Mrs. Brastow. I'm very glad to have met you. 
I'll call again next year. 



[354] 



IN A STREET-CAR 



IN A STREET-CAR 

A Monologue 

{She runs on and pauses y panting^ on the car- 
step. ) 

Oh, conductor, wait a minute, won't you? 
There's another lady coming. Well, she's running 
just as hard as she can. She ain't so light as I am. 
( Calls to her friend. ) Hurry up ! He won't wait ! 
(To the conductor.) Land knows we wait long 
enough for you, sometimes! You needn't be so 
mighty uppish about waiting a second for us once 
in a while! What.? Time-table.? Huh! Your 
time-table's a movable feast, I guess ! I notice the 
only time you're on time's when there's nobody 
waiting for you ! 

( To her friend. ) Oh, here you are ! Yes, isn't 
it an awful pull up that hill.? (Lurches toward a 
seat.) Oh, my! (To a passenger.) Excuse me! 
I didn't mean to ! That is — I couldn't help it, you 
know! (Sits. To her friend.) Did you see what 
I did.? I sat right square down on that man! I 
think I smashed something he's got in that parcel ! 
[357] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

Something crushed, anyhow. What do you s'pose 
it is? Looks some as if it might be a hat, don't 
it ? My, don't he look cross ! Well, I couldn't help 
it ! These men ought to learn to start a car without 
jerking a lady off her feet! 

Oh, see here, I'm going to pay this fare ! Yes, I 
am, too ! You always try to get in ahead. No, I've 
got it right here ! Where is my purse ? Why — I 
believe I've lost it ! Yes, sir, I must have lost it run- 
ning up that hill! Stop the car! Oh, look here, 
conductor! (She springs up and pulls a strap, 
shakes her skirts vigorously, and pulls the same 
strap several times in rapid succession. To the con- 
ductor.) What.? Well, I wanted the car to stop 
and you wouldn't look! I lost my purse because 
you made me run up that hill to Catch your old car, 
and I want to get off! Stop the car, I tell you! 
What.? Rang the wrong — .? The cash register.? 
Well, I don't care if I did ! 1 want to get off ! It 
serves you right if I did ring up a lot of fares! 
Perhaps the next time a lady wants to get off your 
car, you'll look at her, and stop the car yourself! 
Why don't you stop it .? I tell you I've lost — ( To 
a passenger. ) What .? Why, yes, that's it ! Where'd 
you find it.? On the floor.? Well, I declare ! That's 
all right, conductor. (Sits. To her friend.) 
Well, how do you suppose I ever — ( To the conduc- 
tor. ) What .? Pay for the fare I rung up .? Well, 
[ 358 ] 



IN A STREET-CAR 

I guess not ! I'll pay two fares and that's all I will 
pay ! I'm not going to pay for rides I never got ! 
Well, if you'd been looking where you'd ought to 
'a been I wouldn't have touched your old strap! 
It'll teach you to pay some attention to your pas- 
sengers. There's a man on the dummy wants a 
transfer, I guess. You'd better go and see him, or 
you'll get into some more trouble. ( To her friend. ) 
Some of these men are so unaccommodating ! You'd 
think this one was a machine, for any interest he 
ever takes in anything. The other day I didn't 
know just where I wanted to get off, and if you'll 
believe it, he got real uppish because I stopped the 
car so I could look up the street to see if that was 
the place ! He wanted to know why I didn't look 
in the directory and find out where I wanted to go. 
As if anybody could carry a directory around with 
them all the time ! Besides, what's a conductor for, 
I'd like to know, if he isn't for the accommodation 
of passengers.? {To the conductor.) Here, con- 
ductor, two. Transfers.? N-no, I guess not.? (To 
her friend. ) We don't want to transfer, do we .? Or 
do you want to go to see about that bonnet to-day .? 
She said it would be ready this afternoon. Oh, con- 
ductor, wait a minute! Well, perhaps we'd better 
go. What do you think ? All right. {To conduc- 
tor.) Transfers to — why, he's gone! See.? He 
hasn't the least interest in accommodating passen- 
[359] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

gers. I think he ought to be reported. Oh, I kind 
o' hate to do it. He might find out and then it 
would be unpleasant, and us travelling on this line 
so much. 

Who's that woman in the end of the car, do you 
know ? She looks a little like the pictures of Marian 
Doubleday, the actress, don't she.? Not so pretty, 
though. But they do say Marian Doubleday 
wasn't such a tearing beauty until she went on the 
stage and learned to make up. Oh, conductor, 
transfers to Powell Street. I know you asked us if 
we wanted transfers, but you didn't wait to find 
out whether we did or not. If you treat me to much 
more of your inattention and impertinence I shall 
see that you are reported. 

Oh, yes, Marian's made a great success now, but 
she had a pretty hard time getting to the top, I 
guess. Of course, she had all sorts of things to con- 
tend against. I sometimes wonder, when I hear of 
her driving with Mrs. This and lunching with Mrs. 
That, what her swell friends would say if they knew 
that her grandmother kept a boarding-house in 
Sacramento, and that Marian earned her first 
money as a clerk in a store. I wonder why that 
girl's face is getting so red.^* Maybe she saw us 
looking at her. 

They say young Belshaw is perfectly infatuated 
with her. My nephew works in a florist's shop near 
[ 360 ] 



IN A STREET-CAR 

the theatre, and he says they send her a big pile of 
flowers from Belshaw every day. Yes, my sister 
Maud's boy, Johnnie. Yes, he's pretty wild. 
Just like his father, you know. His people are all 
that way. Poor Maud never has. a minute's com- 
fort with him, for if he's behaving, she's always 
sure that it's just the calm before the storm — sort 
of a weather-breeder, you know — and she just wor- 
ries and frets all the time. She never loses a chance 
to tell Johnnie how he ought to behave. She's never 
had a card in the house, nor any wines, nor liquors, 
nor anything like that. She wouldn't even let him 
learn to dance. And yet, that boy drinks and 
smokes and gambles and heaven knows what else! 
Now, there's my Willie ! There couldn't be a nicer 
boy than Willie! He hasn't a single bad habit — 
and he's such a comfort with his clothes ! His 
room's as tidy as a girl's. Poor Maud's always ask- 
ing Johnnie why he doesn't pattern more after his 
cousin Willie, and — well, I won't tell you what he 
says. It's awful ! And his mother such a religious 
woman, too ! 

But in that florist's shop, he sees a lot of gay so- 
ciety fellows like this young Belshaw, and he thinks 
it's smart to try to be like them. Yes, he's Dr. 
Belshaw's son — at least, he's adopted. Why, yes, 
didn't you know that ? No, I never heard anything 
in particular about Fred Belshaw, but he's running 
[361] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

around after this Marian Doubleday, and when a 
man gets to going with actresses, it's safe to sup- 
pose he ain't any too strict. My WilHe wouldn't 
think of doing such a thing. But Johnnie does. 
Oh, my, yes ! Well, there's that Dolly Dixon, you 
know ; she's in Marian Doubleday's company. Oh, 
I don't know where he met her. In the shop, I sup- 
pose ; and Willie says he saw a great big bunch of 
violets that Johnnie sent her, and him just a clerk! 
Willie says she's kind o' pretty, though. He saw 
her going past the shop one day when he was there 
visiting Johnnie. Willie goes to see Johnnie real 
often and tries to influence him, you know. Willie's 
such a conscientious boy ! 

Oh, see this woman just getting in ! Yes, she got 
that silk at Allitson's. They had ten pieces of it 
last year, and it was a dollar-forty a yard, but they 
didn't get rid of it all, and this year they sold off 
what they had left for ninety-eight cents. Yes, it's 
good value. I think it'll fade, though. M-h'm, 
that trimming looks real nice, don't it? She must 
have bought it at Meyerf eld's sale. Sixteen cents a 
yard; but it looks nice, don't it? I don't believe 
it'll wear, though. Meyerfeld's having a sale of 
laces this week. Oh, hadn't you heard about 
it ? Oh, my dear, real bargains ! I saw some in- 
serting for four cents a yard that's just what you 
want for the baby's things. Let's go right down 
[362] 



IN A STREET-CAR 

there and get it; and then we can walk back and 
use our transfers, just the same. And there was 
some wide lace — oh, as wide as that! — for twenty- 
four cents. Oh, I don't know what you'd use it for, 
but it would come in handy some day. Yes, I 
bought some, just on a venture. It seems wasteful 
to let a chance like that go by, you know. 

Oh, here goes the girl! If she was only a little 
better-looking, she'd be the image of Marian 
Doubleday. It must be annoying to look so much 
like an actress. Makes a girl so conspicuous! 
Mercy ! Did you see the look she gave me? 

Oh, there's Mrs. Beaver ! She's speaking to that 
girl. Now, we'll find out who she is. Oh, how do 
you do, Mrs. Beaver .^^ Such a long time since I've 
seen you ! And is this little Horace ? How do you 
do, dear ? How he grows ! Just the living image 
of his father, too, isn't he? Your other boys are 
getting to be young men, aren't they ? Your Tom- 
mie's just three months younger than my Willie. 
I hope he's as much comfort to you as Willie is to 
me. Smokes, doesn't he? Oh, don't you mind it! 
Yes, I know his father always did, and I s'pose you 
do get used to those things if you have to live with 
'em, but my Willie has never wanted to do anything 
like that. I never have any more trouble with him 
than's if he was a girl. 

Oh, Mrs. Beaver, who was the girl you spoke to 
[363] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

as you got into the car? Marian Doubleday! 
That girl in the blue dress Marian Double — well, 
I said it looked like her, didn't I ? But her pictures 
flatter her. Yes, she's getting to be quite fa- 
mous, isn't she? But it must be embarrassing to 
go along the street and know that everybody knows 
who you are! But then, not everybody knows 
about her. Oh, I used to know them in Sacramento, 
you know. At least, my cousin lived next door to 
her grandmother's boarding-house, and — why, yes ! 
Didn't you know that? And Marian clerked in a 
store. Sold buttons and thread and that sort of 
thing, you know. And her grandfather, old Dick 
Doubleday, was an awful old wretch. He used 
to— What? Where? Is that Dolly Dixon? My! 
Look at that hat ! And that coat ! Who's that fel- 
low talking to her? Why — it's my Willie! Con- 
ductor, stop the car ! I want to get right off ! This 
is some of Johnnie's work ! Willie never met that 
girl of his own accord ! Conductor, why don't you 
stop this car? But I don't want to go to the end 
of the block ! I want to get off here ! Oh, dear ! 
Well, good-bye! Oh, where'll I meet you? At 
Meyerf eld's? At the lace counter? Oh, I won't be 
long. Yes, conductor, just a second ! Well, at the 
notion counter, then? Oh, when you're at the lace 
counter, get me two yards more of that twenty — 
(to conductor) yes, of course I'm going to get off! 
[364] 



IN A STREET-CAR 

— twenty-four-cent lace. Oh, it's about so wide, and 
cream colour. You can't miss it. Yes, just as soon 
as I've sent that girl about her business ! ( To con- 
ductor, ) Oh, wait ! I'm going to get off ! Well, I 
told you I was ! I never saw anybody so impatient ! 
I'll report you before night ! Good-bye ! 



X 



[365] 



ir 



A PATRON OF ART 



A PATRON OF ART 

Oh^ how do you do, Mrs. Disbrow? Are you go- 
ing so early? . . . Yes, we've just come. This 
is my niece, Miss Chester. We've been to the Gor- 
ham reception. Such a tiresome crush! But of 
course, everybody was there, and one had to show 
one's self, at least. How ^re the gowns this year.? 
Anything worth seeing.'^ (A private view is such 
an excellent place to see new gowns as a rule, but] 
last year I thought they were very tame. Mrs. 
Belknap wore one that was really quite frumpy, if 
you remember. Good night. Oh, by the way, how 
are the pictures ? Which one is attracting the most 
comment .f^ Bosqui.? Ah, I never heard of him. Oh, 
indeed .^^ I must look at it. Which wall is it on.'* 
Thank you ; I'll glance at it. Good night. 

There's Mrs. Forsyth, Muriel, that woman in 
grey. She must have brought that gown from 
Vienna. She's just home. And there's Mrs. Bel- 
knap in a gown she's worn all winter. Such shock- 
ing taste in a woman of her position! It's really 
one's duty to dress as well as one's income permits. 
[369] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

Last year she paid two thousand dollars for one 
picture, and came to the private view in a shocking 
gown. I wonder who she's talking to? Frowsy- 
looking man. Some impossible genius, I dare say. 
She cultivates 'em. 

Oh, here's KaufFman, the great portrait painter 
— this large, shaggy man at the left. Let's go a 
little nearer. He's talking about Bosqui, too. Did 
you hear that .? "The success of the year" 
"keen sense of colour values" . . . "remark- 
able distance" . . . "feeling for line" . . . 
"atmosphere" . . . what was that about at- 
mosphere.'^ I didn't quite catch it. Evidently, 
Muriel, this Bosqui is promising. We must have 
him in to tea some day. Perhaps I'll have him do a 
little thing for me. 

Oh, how do you do, Mrs. Dwinelle? Mr. Dwi- 
ndle, you've met my niece .f* Yes, we've just come 
from the Gorham reception. Such a tiresome 
crush! We got away as quickly as we could; but 
you know, when one's friends entertain, one must 
really show one's self, at least. Oh, everybody was 
there. Have you seen Bosqui's picture.? Such feel- 
ing for line and distance ! My dear, I predict that 
he'll have a Career! Wonderful atmosphere! 
Really, wonderful! Ah.? I've been here so short 
a time, I'm by no means sure I've discovered all his 
work ; but one glance is sufficient ! Er — ^how many 
[ 370 ] 



A PATRON OF ART 

pictures has he ? Only one ? Ah, really ! Such a 
pity there aren't more! It's quite the only thing 
on the walls worth talking about, I assure you. I'm 
thinking of having him do a little thing for me. 
Yes? Good night, then. 

Muriel, did you hear KaufFman say anything 
about Bosqui's chiaroscuro? Are you positive.? 
Well, he must have chiaroscuro, if he has all those 
other things, don't you think .^^ 

Oh, how do you do, Mr. Atherton? Muriel, my 
dear, here's Mr. Atherton. Yes, we've just come 
from the Gorham reception. Such a tiresome crush ! 
But of course, one must go ! Everybody does ! 
You're going there from here.^^ Yes, of course, one 
does see the pictures better before the crowd comes. 
Tell me, have you seen Bosqui's thing? Oh, my 
dear Mr. Atherton, you mustn't go until you'-ve 
seen it ! I have seldom been so struck by a line — 
I mean, by — by — the distance! Such remarkable 
feeling for colour, you know! And chiaroscuro! 
Such chiaroscuro! Really, he'll have a Career! 
You mark my word, he'll be the success of the 
season. How do you do, Mrs. Belknap? Mr. 
Atherton, who is that frowsy-looking person with 
Mrs. Belknap? Is he — er — anybody, you know? 
She's been talking to him ever since we arrived, and 
— one never knows about Mrs. Belknap's friends. 
Sometimes, they're quite — er — well, the sort of per- 
[371 ] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

son one would like to assist, you know, by asking 
them to tea, or something. And then sometimes — 
really, she knows such extraordinary persons, some- 
times ! Ah, then I dare say he's nobody. Yes, it is 
getting late. Good night. We shall see you Fri- 
day ? Good night. 

Muriel, there's not a gown here that I'd be seen in 
except that grey frock of Mrs. Forsyth's. Where? 
Oh, yes, very nice, I dare say. I don't care much 
for marine things, you know. Oh, here comes Mrs. 
Bennett. Art patron, and all that sort of thing, 
you know. 

How do you do, Mrs. Bennett.'^ Isn't everything 
charming ! Such a relief to see some pictures again ! 
One gets so tired of merely social affairs! We've 
just come from the Gorham reception. Such a 
frightful crush ! But of course, we know them so 
well, and — e'veryhody was there. Really, every- 
body, you know ! Yes, the pictures are very good 
— really very good this year. But of course, there's 
nothing to compare with Bosqui's thing. Isn't it 
wonderful? Such remarkable feeling for line, you 
know — and the distance! My dear, did you ever 
see such distance! He has such a rare sense of 
colour values, too ! Oh, I predict a brilliant future 
for him ! I'm going to have him do a little thing 
for me — just a little thing, you know. You know 
him, of course? Do bring him in to tea with us 
[ 372 ] 



A PATRON OF ART 

some day while my njece is here. Fridays, you 
know. Yes; good-bye. 

Dear me, what an ordinary looking lot of gowns ! 
Eh? Oh, yes, I dare say. I don't care for figures, 
you know. What's the title.? "The Tempest.?" 
^^The Tempest r^ How excessively stupid ! They've 
made a mistake in the catalogues! Really, such 
carelessness is inconceivable! I shall have this re- 
ported to the Secretary. "The Tempest," indeed ! 
Just a stupid-looking girl, and an old man, and a 
— er — a — er — ^what is that creature ? Eh .? Thank 
you, madam; I quite understood that it was after 
Shakespeare. How excessively impertinent ! That 
young woman — who has never been presented to 
me, I'm quite sure — presumed to inform me that 
this picture is — er — of course, any one could see at 
a glance! Well, my dear, the title is misleading. 
It is very stupidly named. The picture should 
have been called "Caliban." To entitle it "The 
Tempest" is — er — is plagiarism! I'm surprised 
that the Committee permitted it to be hung. It's 
by that man Sorbier. They tell shocking things 
about him. His own father, who was a very re- 
spectable sort of person, I believe, cut him off with- 
out a sou, my dear, without a sou ! But Mrs. Bel- 
knap receives him. She says he has temperament. 
I dare say he has. I've noticed that the friends of 
men who have temperament are always apologising 
[373] 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

fdr it. There's Mrs. Belknap now, still with that 
frowsy man. He looks as if he might have tem- 
perament, too. lEh? Oh, yes, yes, child, I sup- 
pose so, if you care for that sort of thing. Land- 
scape doesn't interest me, you know. I wonder 
where the Bosqui thing is.? Do you see it any- 
where ? How very thick the crowd's getting ! Do 
let's go and find some punch! What.? Where.? 
Oh, that.? M-m-m, no, I can't say that I care for 
it. Still life never appeals to me, you know. 

Oh, Miss Wendell, isn't this a crush? It's not 
quite as stifling as the Gorham reception, though. 
We've just come from there. Such a frightful 
crush ! Really, I wonder why we do it ; but every- 
body was there, you know — and one really must be 
civil when one's friends 

Eh.? What is it, Muriel.? Oh, my dear child, a 
mere smudge! Do try to cultivate some feeling 
for Art, Muriel ! No, no, it's perfectly impossible ! 
What was the man thinking of? Ah, well, never 
mind. It's nothing of consequence. Real Art 
idealises, my dear. This is hopelessly realistic. 
That sky is simply the colour that any ordinary 
person might see. Indeed, the colour is quite or- 
dinary throughout. You see? A complete lack 
of artistic feeling and perception. Do let us find 
the Bosq 

Oh, Dr. Houghton ! You came away early from 
[374] 



A PATRON OF ART 

the Gorhams', too. Have jou seen the Bosqui? 
Eh? What is it, Muriel? That the Bosqui! 
That? Oh — er — yes, mj niece and I were quite 
lost in admiration of it as you came up. Such a 
wonderful sense of colour values ! And — er — er — 
such a relief to see a bit of real Art, after the flood 
of impressionistic stuff! I'm going to have him 
do a little thing for me. Eh? Bosqui himself? 
Really ? Do let me see him ! Where — where is my 
lorgnette! That? You mean the — the distin- 
gmshed-lookmg man with Mrs. Belknap? Is that 
Bosqui ? Ah, one can see at a glance that he- has 
temperament ! Do, please, present him ! Mrs. Bel- 
knap has monopolised him quite long enough. 

Muriel, that — that very interesting looking man 
who has been with Mrs. Belknap all the evening is 
Bosqui, and Dr. Houghton is going to 

Ah, Mr. Bosqui, so charmed to meet you! My 
niece and I have been quite lost here before your 
picture ! Such a wonderful sense of colour values ! 
I'm sure you must hear colour, as I do! Doesn't 
beautiful colour always seem to you like a chord 
of exquisite music? And the distance! Really, 
I never saw such distance on canvas, never! And 
the tempera — er — I mean, the atmosphere! One 
can fairly breathe it ! Now, that little touch there 
at the left — Ah, no, unfortunately, I have never 
studied painting — that is, really studied it, you 
[375] 



\ 



COMEDIES IN MINIATURE 

know; but I think if one has sincere feeling for 
ART — er — don't you? Ah, yes, of course, my 
niece; this is my niece. Miss Chester. Dr. Hough- 
ton, will you bring Mr. Bosqui in to tea on Friday ? 
There are so many things I want to ask him about 
his work, you know. Mr. Bosqui. Er — Mr. 
Bosqui! Dr. Houghton has promised to bring you 
to us for tea on Friday. Oh, certainly, my niece 
will be there. Ah, that will be delightful ! I want 
to talk to you about doing a little thing for me. 
You know, I predict a great future for you. Come, 
Muriel. So charmed to have met you, Mr. Bosqui ! 
On Friday, then. Good night. 



A 

VG The End. 



[376] 



Authors of "The Picaroons** 

THE REIGN OF QUEEN ISYL 

r 

Xn "The Reign of Queen Isyl" the authors 
have hit upon a new scheme in fiction. The book 
is both a novel and a collection of short stories. 
The main story deals with a carnival of flowers 
in a California city. Just before the coronation 
the Queen of the Fiesta disappears, and her 
Maid of Honor is crowned in her stead — Queen 
Isyl. There are plots and counterplots — half- 
mockery, half-earnest — beneath which the reader 
is tantalized by glimpses of the genuine mystery 
surrounding the real queen's disappearance. 

Thus far the story differs from other novels 
only in the quaintly romantic atmosphere of mod- 
ern chivalry. Its distinctive feature lies in the 
fact that in every chapter one of the characters 
relates an anecdote. Each anecdote is a short 
story of the liveliest and most amusing kind — 
complete in itself — yet each bears a vital relation 
to the main romance and its characters. The 
short stories are as unusual and striking as the 
novel of which they form a part. 

$1.50 



38p illojti (Dsihomm 



LOVE THE FIDDLER 



JLOVE fiddles both merrily and sadly in the 
stories that make up this book, but however 
he fiddles he makes the music for a sparkling, 
charmingly told love-episode. " All the world 
loves a lover,"" and all the world has here 
choice from among a very wide and varied 
assortment of them — every one a human and 
real person — involved in an event which the 
author makes you feel is critically interesting. 

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38^ Ba\)iti #ra|)am ^ijtUips 

Author of " Golden Fleece." 

THE MASTER ROGUE 



A. STUDY in the tyranny of wealth. James 
Galloway founds his fortune on a fraud. He 
ruins the man who has befriended him and steals 
away his business. Vast railroad operations next 
claim his attention. He becomes a bird of prey 
in the financial world. One by one he forsakes 
his principles; he becomes a hypocrite, posing, 
even to himself. With the degeneration of his 
moral character come domestic troubles. . His 
wife grows to despise him. One of his sons be- 
comes a spendthrift ; the other a forger. His 
daughter, Helen, alone retains any affection for 
him. His attempts to force his family into the 
most exclusive circles subject him and them to 
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to his old ways, and dies in a fit of anger, haggling 
over his daughter's dowry. $1.50. 



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B? %. Conan Bojle 

Author of '* The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes 

THE ADVENTURES OF 
GERARD 



r 



[3 TORIES of the remarkable adventures of a 
Brigadier in Napoleon's army. In Etienne Ge- 
rard, Conan Doyle has added to his already famous 
gallery of characters one worthy to stand beside 
the notable Sherlock Holmes. Many and thrill- 
ing are Gerard's adventures, as related by himself, 
for he takes part in nearly every one of Napoleon's 
campaigns. In Venice he has an interesting 
romantic escapade which causes him the loss of 
an ear. With the utmost bravery and cunning 
he captures the Spanish city of Saragossa ; in 
Portugal he saves the army ; in Russia he feeds 
the starving soldiers by supplies obtained at 
Minsk, after a wonderful ride. Everwhere else 
he is just as marvelous, and at Waterloo he is the 
center of the whole battle. 

For all his lumbering vanity he is a genial old 
soul and a remarkably vivid story-teller. 

Illustrated by W. B. Wollen. 

$1.50 



B? ilenr^ ^eton JEerritnan 

Author of "The Sowers," etc. 

BARLASCH OF THE GUARD 

r 

J- HE story is set in those desperate days when 
the ebbing tide of Napoleon's fortunes swept 
Europe with desolation. Barlasch — " Papa 
Barlasch of the Guard, Italy, Egypt, the Dan- 
ube "" — a veteran in the Little CorporaFs service 
— is the dominant figure of the story. Quar- 
tered on a distinguished family in the historic 
town of Dantzig, he gives his life to the romance 
of Desiree, the daughter of the family, and Louis 
d' Ari-agon, whose cousin she has married and 
parted with at the church door. Louis's search 
with Barlasch for the missing Charles gives an 
unforgettable picture of the terrible retreat from 
Russia ; and as a companion picture there is the 
heroic defence of Dantzig by Rapp and his little 
army of sick and starving. At the last Bar- 
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beleaguered town to join Louis. 
Illustrated by the Kinneys. 

S1.50 

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Li:i 



3S^ ^tanlej 3^ Wt^mm 

Author of " A Gentleman of France " 

THE LONG NIGHT 



(jENEVA in the early days of the 1 7th century; 
a ruffling young theologue new to the city; a 
beautiful and innocent girl, suspected of witch- 
craft ; a crafty scholar and metaphysician seeking 
to give over the city into the hands of the Savoy- 
ards ; a stern and powerful syndic whom the 
scholar beguiles to betray his office by promises 
of an elixir which shall save him from his fatal 
illness ; a brutal soldier of fortune ; these are the 
elements of which Weyman has composed the 
most brilliant and thrilling of his romances. 
Claude Mercier, the student, seeing the plot in 
which the girl he loves is involved, yet helpless 
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the treacherous men of Savoy are admitted within 
Geneva's walls, and in a night of whirlwind fight- 
ing saves the city by his courage and address. 
For fire and spirit there are few chapters in 
modern literature such as those which picture the 
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heroic burghers, fighting in their own blood under 
the divided leadership of the fat Syndic, Baudi- 
chon, and the bandy-legged sailor, Jehan Brosse, 
winning the battle against the armed and armored 
forces of the invaders. 

Illustrated by Solomon J. Solomon. 
$1.50 



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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




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